I 


4* 

Library 

-k 

PRM 
0/  Dr.  A 

Division. 
Section... 
Number, 

*%    t 

rCETON,  N.  J.                        ^f 

.  «^.  Hodge.      Presented. 

- 

SCB 

'U 


REPRESENTATIVE  MEN. 


REPRESENTATIVE   MEN 


SEVEN  LECTURES, 


BY     R.     W.     EMERSON. 


BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON  AND    COMPANY, 

110  Washington  Street. 
1850. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1849, 

BY   PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON   AND    COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


STEHEOTTPED    BT 

CHARLES  VT.  COLTON, 
No.  2  Water  Street. 


CONTENTS 


I.  —  Uses  op  Great  Men, 9 

IE.  —  Plato  ;  or,  the  Philosopher,    .......    43 

Plato:  New  Readings, 82 

hi.  —  swedenborg  ;  or,  the  mystic, 95 

IV.  —  Montaigne  ;  or,  the  Skeptic, 149 

V.  —  Shakspeare  ;  or,  the  Poet, 187 

VI.  —  Napoleon  ;  or,  the  Man  op  the  World,  .    .    .219 
VIL  —  Goethe  ;  or,  the  Writer, 257 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN. 


USES    OE    GREAT   MEN 


It  is  natural  to  believe  in  great  men.  If  the 
companions  of  our  childhood  should  turn  out  to 
be  heroes,  and  their  condition  regal,  it  would  not 
surprise  us.  All  mythology  opens  with  demigods, 
and  the  circumstance  is  high  and  poetic ;  that  is, 
their  genius  is  paramount.  In  the  legends  of  the 
Gautama,  the  first  men  ate  the  earth,  and  found 
it  deliciously  sweet. 

Nature  seems  to  exist  for  the  excellent.  The 
world  is  upheld  by  the  veracity  of  good  men  : 
they  make  the  earth  wholesome.  Thefy  who 
lived  with  them  found  life  glad  and  nutritious. 
Life  is  sweet  and  tolerable  only  in  our  belief  in  such 
society;  and  actually,  or  ideally,  we  manage  to 
live  with  superiors.  We  call  our  children  and 
our  lands  by  their  names.  Their  names  are 
wrought  into  the  verbs  of  language,  their  works 
and   effigies   are   in  our  houses,  and  every  cir- 


10  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

cumstance   of   the   day  recalls   an   anecdote   of 
them. 

The  search  after  the  great  is  the  dream  of 
youth,  and  the  most  serious  occupation  of  man- 
hood. We  travel  into  foreign  parts  to  find  his 
works,  —  if  possible,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  him. 
But  we  are  put  off  with  fortune  instead.  You 
say,  the  English  are  practical ;  the  Germans  are 
hospitable  j  in  Valencia,  the  climate  is  delicious ; 
and  in  the  hills  of  the  Sacramento,  there  is  gold 
for  the  gathering.  Yes,  but  I  do  not  travel  to  find 
comfortable,  rich,  and  hospitable  people,  or  clear 
sky,  or  ingots  that  cost  too  much.  But  if  there  were 
any  magnet  that  would  point  to  the  countries 
and  houses  where  are  the  persons  who  are  in- 
trinsically rich  and  powerful,  I  would  sell  all,  and 
buy  it,  and  put  myself  on  the  road  to-day. 

The  race  goes  with  us  on  their  credit.  The 
knowledge,  that  in  the  city  is  a  man  who  invented 
the  railroad,  raises  the  credit  of  all  the  citizens. 
But  enormous  populations,  if  they  be  beggars, 
are  disgusting,  like  moving  cheese,  like  hills  of 
ants,  or  of  fleas  —  the  more,  the  worse. 

Our  religion  is  the  love  and  cherishing  of  these 
patrons.  The  gods  of  fable  are  the  shining 
moments  of  great  men.  We  run  all  our  ves- 
sels into  one  mould.  Our  colossal  theologies 
of  Judaism,  Christism,  Buddhism,  Mahometism, 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  11 

are  the  necessary  and  structural  action  of  the 
human  mind.  The  student  of  history  is  like  a 
man  going  into  a  warehouse  to  buy  cloths  or 
carpets.  He  fancies  he  has  a  new  article.  If  he  go 
to  the  factory,  he  shall  find  that  his  new  stuff 
still  repeats  the  scrolls  and  rosettes  which  are  found 
on  the  interior  walls  of  the  pyramids  of  Thebes. 
Our  theism  is  the  purification  of  the  human  mind. 
Man  can  paint,  or  make,  or  think  nothing  but 
man.  He  believes  that  the  great  material  elements 
had  their  origin  from  his  thought.  And  our 
philosophy  finds  one  essence  collected  or  distrib- 
uted. 

If  now  we  proceed  to  inquire  into  the  kinds 
of  service  we  derive  from  others,  let  us  be  warned 
of  the  danger  of  modern  studies,  and  begin  low 
enough.  We  must  not  contend  against  love,  or 
deny  the  substantial  existence  of  other  people.  I 
know  not  what  would  happen  to  us.  We  have 
social  strengths.  Our  affection  towards  others 
creates  a  sort  of  vantage  or  purchase  which  noth- 
ing will  supply.  I  can  do  that  by  another  which 
I  cannot  do  alone.  I  can  say  to  you  what  I  can- 
not first  say  to  myself.  Other  men  are  lenses 
through  which  we  read  our  own  minds.  Each 
man  seeks  those  of  different  quality  from  his 
own,  and  such  as  are  good  of  their  kind  ;  that  is, 


12  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

he  seeks  other  men,  and  the  otherest.  The  stronger 
the  nature,  the  more  it  is  reactive.  Let  us  have 
the  quality  pure.  A  little  genius  let  us  leave 
alone.  A  main  difference  betwixt  men  is,  whether 
they  attend  their  own  affair  or  not.  Man  is  that 
noble  endogenous  plant  which  grows,  like  the 
palm,  from  within,  outward.  His  own  affair, 
though  impossible  to  others,  he  can  open  with 
celerity  and  in  sport.  It  is  easy  to  sugar  to  be 
sweet,  and  to  nitre  to  be  salt.  We  take  a  great 
deal  of  pains  to  waylay  and  entrap  that  which  of 
itself  will  fall  into  our  hands.  I  count  him  a 
great  man  who  inhabits  a  higher  sphere  of  thought, 
into  which  other  men  rise  with  labor  and  difficul- 
ty ;  he  has  but  to  open  his  eyes  to  see  things  in 
a  true  light,  and  in  large  relations  j  whilst  they 
must  make  painful  corrections,  and  keep  a  vigilant 
eye  on  many  sources  of  error.  His  service  to  us 
is  of  like  sort.  It  costs  a  beautiful  person  no 
exertion  to  paint  her  image  on  our  eyes ;  yet 
how  splendid  is  that  benefit !  It  costs  no  more 
for  a  wise  soul  to  convey  his  quality  to  other 
men.  And  every  one  can  do  his  best  thing 
easiest.  "  Peu  de  moyens,  beaucoup  cPeffet" 
He  is  great  who  is  what  he  is  from  nature,  and 
who  never  reminds  us  of  others. 

But  he  must  be  related  to  us,  and  our  life  receive 
from  him  some  promise  of  explanation.     I  cannot 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  13 

tell  what  I  would  know  j  but  I  have  observed  there 
are  persons  who,  in  their  character  and  actions, 
answer  questions  which  I  have  not  skill  to  put. 
One  man  answers  some  question  which  none  of  his 
contemporaries  put,  and  is  isolated.  The  past  and 
passing  religions  and  philosophies  answer  some 
other  question.  Certain  men  affect  us  as  rich 
possibilities,  but  helpless  to  themselves  and  to 
their  times,  — the  sport,  perhaps,  of  some  instinct 
that  rules  in  the  air  j  —  they  do  not  speak  to 
our  want.  But  the  great  are  near;  we  know 
them  at  sight.  They  satisfy  expectation,  and 
fall  into  place,  What  is  good  is  effective,  gen- 
erative j  makes  for  itself  room,  food,  and  allies. 
A  sound  apple  produces  seed,  —  a  hybrid  does 
not.  Is  a  man  in  his  place,  he  is  constructive, 
fertile,  magnetic,  inundating  armies  with  his  pur- 
pose, which  is  thus  executed.  The  river  makes 
its  own  shores,  and  each  legitimate  idea  makes  its 
own  channels  and  welcome,  —  harvests  for  food, 
institutions  for  expression,  weapons  to  fight  with, 
and  disciples  to  explain  it.  The  true  artist  has 
the  planet  for  his  pedestal ;  the  adventurer,  after 
years  of  strife,  has  nothing  broader  than  his  own 
shoes. 

Our  common  discourse  respects  two  kinds  of 
use  or  service  from  superior  men.     Direct  giving 
is  agreeable  to  the  early  belief  of  men  j    direct 
2 


14 


REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 


giving  of  material  or  metaphysical  aid,  as  of 
health,  eternal  youth,  fine  senses,  arts  of  healing, 
magical  power,  and  prophecy.  The  boy  believes 
there  is  a  teacher  who  can  sell  him  wisdom. 
Churches  believe  in  imputed  merit.  But,  in  strict- 
ness, we  are  not  much  cognizant  of  direct  serving. 
Man  is  endogenous,  and  education  is  his  unfold- 
ing. The  aid  we  have  from  others  is  mechanical, 
compared  with  the  discoveries  of  nature  in  us. 
What  is  thus  learned  is  delightful  in  the  doing, 
and  the  effect  remains.  Right  ethics  are  central, 
and  go  from  the  soul  outward.  Gift  is  contrary 
to  the  law  of  the  universe.  Serving  others  is 
serving  us.  I  must  absolve  me  to  myself.  '  Mind 
thy  affair,'  says  the  spirit :  —  l  coxcomb,  would 
you  meddle  with  the  skies,  or  with  other  people  ? ' 
Indirect  service  is  left.  Men  have  a  pictorial  or 
representative  quality,  and  serve  us  in  the  intel- 
lect. Behmen  and  Swedenborg  saw  that  things 
were  representative.  Men  are  also  representative ; 
first,  of  things,  and  secondly,  of  ideas. 

As  plants  convert  the  minerals  into  food  for 
animals,  so  each  man  converts  some  raw  material 
in  nature  to  human  use.  The  inventors  of  fire, 
electricity,  magnetism,  iron,  lead,  glass,  linen,  silk, 
cotton  ;  the  makers  of  tools  ;  the  inventor  of  deci- 
mal notation ;  the  geometer ;  the  engineer ;  the 
severally   make    an    easy    way    for 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  15 

all,  through  unknown  and  impossible  confusions. 
Each  man  is,  by  secret  liking,  connected  with  some 
district  of  nature,  whose  agent  and  interpreter  he 
is,  as  Linnaeus,  of  plants ;  Huber,  of  bees ;  Fries, 
of  lichens  ;  Van  Mons,  of  pears  ;  Dalton,  of  atomic 
forms ;  Euclid,  of  lines ;  Newton,  of  fluxions. 

A  man  is  a  centre  for  nature,  running  out 
threads  of  relation  through  every  thing,  fluid  and 
solid,  material  and  elemental.  The  earth  rolls  ; 
every  clod  and  stone  comes  to  the  meridian  :  so 
every  organ,  function,  acid,  crystal,  grain  of  dust, 
has  its  relation  to  the  brain.  It  waits  long,  but 
its  turn  comes.  Each  plant  has  its  parasite,  and 
each  created  thing  its  lover  and  poet.  Justice  has 
already  been  done  to  steam,  to  iron,  to  wood,  to 
coal,  to  loadstone,  to  iodine,  to  corn,  and  cotton  ; 
but  how  few  materials  are  yet  used  by  our  arts  ! 
The  mass  of  creatures  and  of  qualities  are  still 
hid  and  expectant.  It  would  seem  as  if  each 
waited,  like  the  enchanted  princess  in  fairy  tales, 
for  a  destined  human  deliverer.  Each  must  be 
disenchanted,  and  walk  forth  to  the  day  in 
human  shape.  In  the  history  of  discovery,  the 
ripe  and  latent  truth  seems  to  have  fashioned  a 
brain  for  itself.  A  magnet  must  be  made  man, 
in  some  Gilbert,  or  Swedenborg,  or  Oersted,  be- 
fore the  general  mind  can  come  to  entertain  its 
powers. 


16  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

If  we  limit  ourselves  to  the  first  advantages; — 
a  sober  grace  adheres  to  the  mineral  and  botanic 
kingdoms,  which,  in  the  highest  moments,  comes 
up  as  the  charm  of  nature,  —  the  glitter  of  the 
spar,  the  sureness  of  affinity,  the  veracity  of 
angles.  Light  and  darkness,  heat  and  cold,  hun- 
ger and  food,  sweet  and  sour,  solid,  liquid,  and 
gas,  circle  us  round  in  a  wreath  of  pleasures,  and, 
by  their  agreeable  quarrel,  beguile  the  day  of  life. 
The  eye  repeats  every  day  the  first  eulogy  on 
things —  "He  saw  that  they  were  good."  We 
know  where  to  find  them  j  and  these  performers 
are  relished  all  the  more,  after  a  little  experience 
of  the  pretending  races.  We  are  entitled,  also, 
to  higher  advantages.  Something  is  wanting  to 
science,  until  it  has  been  humanized.  The  table 
of  logarithms  is  one  thing,  and  its  vital  play,  in 
botany,  music,  optics,  and  architecture,  another. 
There  are  advancements  to  numbers,  anatomy, 
architecture,  astronomy,  little  suspected  at  first, 
when,  by  union  with  intellect  and  will,  they  as- 
cend into  the  life,  and  reappear  in  conversation, 
character,  and  politics. 

But  this  comes  later.  We  speak  now  only  of 
our  acquaintance  with  them  in  their  own  sphere, 
and  the  way  in  which  they  seem  to  fascinate  and 
draw  to  them  some  genius  who  occupies  himself 
with  one  thing,  all  his  life  long.     The  possibility 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  17 

of  interpretation  lies  in  the  identity  of  the 
observer  with  the  observed.  Each  material  thing 
has  its  celestial  side ;  has  its  translation,  through 
humanity,  into  the  spiritual  and  necessary  sphere, 
where  it  plays  a  part  as  indestructible  as  any 
other.  And  to  these,  their  ends,  all  things  con- 
tinually ascend.  The  gases  gather  to  the  solid 
firmament :  the  chemic  lump  arrives  at  the  plant, 
and  grows  ;  arrives  at  the  quadruped,  and  walks ; 
arrives  at  the  man,  and  thinks.  But  also  the 
constituency  determines  the  vote  of  the  repre- 
sentative. He  is  not  only  representative,  but 
participant.  Like  can  only  be  known  by  like. 
The  reason  why  he  knows  about  them  is,  that 
he  is  of  them ;  he  has  just  come  out  of 
nature,  or  from  being  a  part  of  that  thing.  An- 
imated chlorine  knows  of  chlorine,  and  incarnate 
zinc,  of  zinc.  Their  quality  makes  his  career ; 
and  he  can  variously  publish  their  virtues,  because 
they  compose  him.  Man,  made  of  the  dust  of 
the  world,  does  not  forget  his  origin  j  and  all  that 
is  yet  inanimate  will  one  day  speak  and  reason. 
Unpublished  nature  will  have  its  whole  secret 
told.  Shall  we  say  that  quartz  mountains  will 
pulverize  into  innumerable  Werners,  Yon  Buchs, 
and  Beaumonts  ;  and  the  laboratory  of  the  atmos- 
phere holds  in  solution  I  know  not  what  Ber- 
zeliuses  and  Davys  ? 

2* 

t 


18  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Thus,  we  sit  by  the  fire,  and  take  hold  on  the 
poles  of  the  earth.  This  quasi  omnipresence 
supplies  the  imbecility  of  our  condition.  In  one 
of  those  celestial  days,  when  heaven  and  earth 
meet  and  adorn  each  other,  it  seems  a  poverty 
that  we  can  only  spend  it  once  :  we  wish  for  a 
thousand  heads,  a  thousand  bodies,  that  we  might 
celebrate  its  immense  beauty  in  many  ways  and 
places.  Is  this  fancy  ?  Well,  in  good  faith,  we 
are  multiplied  by  our  proxies.  How  easily  we 
adopt  their  labors  !  Every  ship  that  comes  to 
America  got  its  chart  from  Columbus.  Every 
novel  is  a  debtor  to  Homer.  Every  carpenter 
who  shaves  with  a  foreplane  borrows  the  genius 
of  a  forgotten  inventor.  Life  is  girt  all  round  with 
a  zodiac  of  sciences,  the  contributions  of  men  who 
have  perished  to  add  their  point  of  light  to  our 
sky.  Engineer,  broker,  jurist,  physician,  moral- 
ist, theologian,  and  every  man,  inasmuch  as  he  has 
any  science,  is  a  de finer  and  map-maker  of  the 
latitudes  and  longitudes  of  our  condition.  These 
road-makers  on  every  hand  enrich  us.  We  must 
extend  the  area  of  life,  and  multiply  our  relations. 
We  are  as  much  gainers  by  finding  a  new  property 
in  the  old  earth,  as  by  acquiring  a  new  planet. 

We  are  too  passive  in  the  reception  of  these 
material  or  semi-material  aids.  We  must  not  be 
sacks  and  stomachs.    To  ascend  one  step,  —  we  are 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  19 

better  served  through  our  sympathy.  Activity  is 
contagious.  Looking  where  others  look,  and 
conversing  with  the  same  things,  we  catch  the 
charm  which  lured  them.  Napoleon  said,  "  You 
must  not  fight  too  often  with  one  enemy,  or  you 
will  teach  him  all  your  art  of  war."  Talk  much 
with  any  man  of  vigorous  mind,  and  we  acquire 
very  fast  the  habit  of  looking  at  things  in  the 
same  light,  and,  on  each  occurrence,  we  anticipate 
his  thought. 

Men  are  helpful  through  the  intellect  and  the 
affections.  Other  help,  I  find  a  false  appearance. 
If  you  affect  to  give  me  bread  and  fire,  I  perceive 
that  I  pay  for  it  the  full  price,  and  at  last  it  leaves 
me  as  it  found  me,  neither  better  nor  worse  :  but 
all  mental  and  moral  force  is  a  positive  good.  It 
goes  out  from  you,  whether  you  will  or  not,  and 
profits  me  whom  you  never  thought  of.  I  cannot 
even  hear  of  personal  vigor  of  any  kind,  great 
power  of  performance,  without  fresh  resolution. 
We  are  emulous  of  all  that  man  can  do.  Cecil's 
saying  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  "  I  know  that  he 
can  toil  terribly,"  is  an  electric  touch.  So  are 
Clarendon's  portraits,  —  of  Hampden  ;  "  who  was 
of  an  industry  and  vigilance  not  to  be  tired  out 
or  wearied  by  the  most  laborious,  and  of  parts  not 
to  be  imposed  on  by  the  most  subtle  and  sharp, 
and  of  a  personal  courage  equal  to  his  best  parts,"— - 


20  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

of  Falkland ;  "  who  was  so  severe  an  adorer  of 
truth,  that  he  could  as  easily  have  given  himself 
leave  to  steal,  as  to  dissemble."  "We  cannot  read 
Plutarch,  without  a  tingling  of  the  blood  ;  and  I 
accept  the  saying  of  the  Chinese  Mencius  :  "  A 
sage  is  the  instructer  of  a  hundred  ages.  When 
the  manners  of  Loo  are  heard  of,  the  stupid  become 
intelligent,  and  the  wavering,  determined." 

This  is  the  moral  of  biography ;  yet  it  is  hard 
for  departed  men  to  touch  the  quick  like  our  own 
companions,  whose  names  may  not  last  as  long. 
What  is  he  whom  I  never  think  of?  whilst  in 
every  solitude  are  those  who  succor  our  genius, 
and  stimulate  us  in  wonderful  manners.  There 
is  a  power  in  love  to  divine  another's  destiny  bet- 
ter than  that  other  can,  and,  by  heroic  encour- 
agements, hold  him  to  his  task.  What  has  friend- 
ship so  signal  as  its  sublime  attraction  to  whatever 
virtue  is  in  us?  We  will  never  more  think 
cheaply  of  ourselves,  or  of  life.  We  are  piqued 
to  some  purpose,  and  the  industry  of  the  diggers 
on  the  railroad  will  not  again  shame  us. 

Under  this  head,  too,  falls  that  homage,  very 
pure,  as  I  think,  which  all  ranks  pay  to  the  hero 
of  the  day,  from  Coriolanus  and  Gracchus,  down 
to  Pitt,  Lafayette,  Wellington,  Webster,  Lamar- 
tine.  Hear  the  shouts  in  the  street !  The  people 
cannot  see  him  enough.     They  delight  in  a  man. 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  21 

Here  is  a  head  and  a  trunk !  What  a  front ! 
what  eyes !  Atlantean  shoulders,  and  the  whole 
carriage  heroic,  with  equal  inward  force  to  guide 
the  great  machine  !  This  pleasure  of  full  expres- 
sion to  that  which,  in  their  private  experience,  is 
usually  cramped  and  obstructed,  runs,  also,  much 
higher,  and  is  the  secret  of  the  reader's  joy  in  lit- 
erary genius.  Nothing  is  kept  back.  There  is 
fire  enough  to  fuse  the  mountain  of  ore.  Shak- 
speare's  principal  merit  may  be  conveyed,  in  say- 
ing that  he,  of  all  men,  best  understands  the 
English  language,  and  can  say  what  he  will. 
Yet  these  unchoked  channels  and  floodgates  of 
expression  are  only  health  or  fortunate  constitu- 
tion. Shakspeare's  name  suggests  other  and 
purely  intellectual  benefits. 

Senates  and  sovereigns  have  no  compliment, 
with  their  medals,  swords,  and  armorial  coats,  like 
the  addressing  to  a  human  being  thoughts  out  of 
a  certain  height,  and  presupposing  his  intelligence. 
This  honor,  which  is  possible  in  personal  inter- 
course scarcely  twice  in  a  lifetime,  genius  perpet- 
ually pays ;  contented,  if  now  and  then,  in  a  cen- 
tury, the  proffer  is  accepted.  The  indicators  of 
the  values  of  matter  are  degraded  to  a  sort  of 
cooks  and  confectioners,  on  the  appearance  of  the 
indicators  of  ideas.  Genius  is  the  naturalist  or 
geographer    of    the    supersensible    regions,    and 


22  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

draws  their  map  ;  and,  by  acquainting  us  with 
new  fields  of  activity,  cools  our  affection  for  the 
old.  These  are  at  once  accepted  as  the  reality, 
of  which  the  world  we  have  conversed  with  is 
the  show. 

We  go  to  the  gymnasium  and  the  swimming- 
school  to  see  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  body ; 
there  is  the  like  pleasure,  and  a  higher  benefit, 
from  witnessing  intellectual  feats  of  all  kinds ;  as, 
feats  of  memory,  of  mathematical  combination, 
great  power  of  abstraction,  the  transmutings  of 
the  imagination,  even  versatility,  and  concentra- 
tion, as  these  acts  expose  the  invisible  organs  and 
members  of  the  mind,  which  respond,  member 
for  member,  to  the  parts  of  the  body.  For,  we 
thus  enter  a  new  gymnasium,  and  learn  to  choose 
men  by  their  truest  marks,  taught,  with  Plato, 
"to  choose  those  who  can,  without  aid  from  the 
eyes,  or  any  other  sense,  proceed  to  truth  and  to 
being."  Foremost  among  these  activities,  are  the 
summersaults,  spells,  and  resurrections,  wrought 
by  the  imagination.  When  this  wakes,  a  man 
seems  to  multiply  ten  times  or  a  thousand  times 
his  force.  It  opens  the  delicious  sense  of  indeter- 
minate size,  and  inspires  an  audacious  mental 
habit.  We  are  as  elastic  as  the  gas  of  gunpow- 
der, and  a  sentence  in  a  book,,  or  a  word  dropped 
in  conversation,  sets  free  our  fancy,  and  instantly 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  23 

our  heads  are  bathed  Avith  galaxies,  and  our  feet 
tread  the  floor  of  the  Pit.  And  this  benefit  is 
real,  because  we  are  entitled  to  these  enlargements, 
and,  once  having  passed  the  bounds,  shall  never 
again  be  quite  the  miserable  pedants  we  were. 

The  high  functions  of  the  intellect  are  so  allied, 
that  some  imaginative  power  usually  appears  in 
all  eminent  minds,  even  in  arithmeticians  of  the 
first  class,  but  especially  in  meditative  men  of  an 
intuitive  habit  of  thought.  This  class  serve  us, 
so  that  they  have  the  perception  of  identity  and 
the  perception  of  reaction.  The  eyes  of  Plato, 
Shakspeare,  Swedenborg,  Goethe,  never  shut  on 
either  of  these  laws.  The  perception  of  these 
laws  is  a  kind  of  metre  of  the  mind.  Little  minds 
are  little,  through  failure  to  see  them. 

Even  these  feasts  have  their  surfeit.  Our  de- 
light in  reason  degenerates  into  idolatry  of  the 
herald.  Especially  when  a  mind  of  powerful 
method  has  instructed  men,  we  find  the  examples 
of  oppression.  The  dominion  of  Aristotle,  the 
Ptolemaic  astronomy,  the  credit  of  Luther,  of 
Bacon,  of  Locke,  —  in  religion,  the  history  of 
hierarchies,  of  saints,  and  the  sects  which  have 
taken  the  name  of  each  founder,  are  in  point. 
Alas  !  every  man  is  such  a  victim.  The  imbecil- 
ity of  men  is  always  inviting  the  impudence  of 
power.     It  is  the  delight  of  vulgar  talent  to  daz- 


24  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

zle  and  to  bind  the  beholder.  But  true  genius 
seeks  to  defend  us  from  itself.  True  genius  will 
not  impoverish,  but  will  liberate,  and  add  new 
senses.  If  a  wise  man  should  appear  in  our  vil- 
lage, he  would  create,  in  those  who  conversed 
with  him,  a  new  consciousness  of  wealth,  by 
opening  their  eyes  to  unobserved  advantages ;  he 
would  establish  a  sense  of  immovable  equality, 
calm  us  with  assurances  that  we  could  not  be 
cheated ;  as  every  one  would  discern  the  checks 
and  guaranties  of  condition.  The  rich  would 
see  their  mistakes  and  poverty,  the  poor  their 
escapes  and  their  resources. 

But  nature  brings  all  this  about  in  due  time. 
Rotation  is  her  remedy.  The  soul  is  impatient 
of  masters,  and  eager  for  change.  Housekeepers 
say  of  a  domestic  who  has  been  valuable,  "  She 
had  lived  with  me  long  enough."  We  are  ten- 
dencies, or  rather,  symptoms,  and  none  of  us  com- 
plete. We  touch  and  go,  and  sip  the  foam  of 
many  lives.  Rotation  is  the  law  of  nature. 
When  nature  removes  a  great  man,  people  explore 
the  horizon  for  a  successor  ;  but  none  comes,  and 
none  will.  His  class  is  extinguished  with  him. 
In  some  other  and  quite  different  field,  the  next 
man  will  appear ;  not  Jefferson,  not  Franklin,  but 
now  a  great  salesman  j  then  a  road-contractor ; 
then  a  student  of  fishes ;  then  a  buffalo-hunting 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  25 

explorer,  or  a  semi-savage  western  general.  Thus 
we  make  a  stand  against  our  rougher  masters  ;  but 
against  the  best  there  is  a  finer  remedy.  The 
power  which  they  communicate  is  not  theirs. 
When  we  are  exalted  by  ideas,  we  do  not  owe 
this  to  Plato,  but  to  the  idea,  to  which,  also,  Plato 
was  debtor. 

I  must  not  forget  that  we  have  a  special  debt 
to  a  single  class.  Life  is  a  scale  of  degrees. 
Between  rank  and  rank  of  our  great  men  are 
wide  intervals.  Mankind  have,  in  all  ages,  attached 
themselves  to  a  few  persons,  who,  either  by  the 
quality  of  that  idea  they  embodied,  or  by  the  large- 
ness of  their  reception,  were  entitled  to  the  posi- 
tion of  leaders  and  law-givers.  These  teach  us  the 
qualities  of  primary  nature,  —  admit  us  to  the  con- 
stitution of  things.  We  swim,  day  by  day,  on  a 
river  of  delusions,  and  are  effectually  amused  with 
houses  and  towns  in  the  air,  of  which  the  men 
about  us  are  dupes.  But  life  is  a  sincerity.  In 
lucid  intervals  we  say,  '  Let  there  be  an  entrance 
opened  for  me  into  realities  ;  I  have  worn  the  fool's 
cap  too  long.'  We  will  know  the  meaning  of  our 
economies  and  politics.  Give  us  the  cipher,  and, 
if  persons  and  things  are  scores  of  a  celestial  music, 
let  us  read  off  the  strains.  We  have  been  cheated 
of  our  reason ;  yet  there  have  been  sane  men,  who 
enjoyed  a  rich  and  related  existence.  What  they 
3 


26  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

know,  they  know  for  us.  With  each  new  mind, 
a  new  secret  of  nature  transpires ;  nor  can  the 
Bible  be  closed,  until  the  last  great  man  is  born. 
These  men  correct  the  delirium  of  the  animal 
spirits,  make  us  considerate,  and  engage  us  to 
new  aims  and.  powers.  The  veneration  of  man- 
kind selects  these  for  the  highest  place.  Witness 
the  multitude  of  statues,  pictures,  and  memorials 
which  recall  their  genius  in  every  city,  village, 
house,  and  ship  :  — 

"  Ever  their  phantoms  arise  Defore  us, 
Our  loftier  brothers,  but  one  in  blood  ; 
At  bed  and  table  they  lord  it  o'er  us, 
With  looks  of  beauty,  and  words  of  good." 

How  to  illustrate  the  distinctive  benefit  of  ideas, 
the  service  rendered  by  those  who  introduce  moral 
truths  into  the  general  mind  ?  —  I  am  plagued, 
in  all  my  living,  with  a  perpetual  tariff  of  prices. 
If  I  work  in  my  garden,  and  prime  an  apple-tree, 
I  am  well  enough  entertained,  and  could  continue 
indefinitely  in  the  like  occupation.  But  it  comes 
to  mind  that  a  day  is  gone,  and  I  have  got 
this  precious  nothing  done.  I  go  to  Boston  or 
New  York,  and  run  up  and  down  on  my  affairs  : 
they  are  sped,  but  so  is  the  day.  I  am  vexed 
by  the  recollection  of  this  price  I  have  paid  for  a 
trifling  advantage.     I  remember  the  peau  d'ane, 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  27 

on  which  whoso  sat  should  have  his  desire,  but 
a  piece  of  the  skin  was  gone  for  every  wish.  I 
go  to  a  convention  of  philanthropists.  Do  what  I 
can,  I  cannot  keep  my  eyes  off  the  clock.  But 
if  there  should  appear  in  the  company  some  gentle 
soul  who  knows  little  of  persons  or  parties,  of 
Carolina  or  Cuba,  but  who  announces  a  law  that 
disposes  these  particulars,  and  so  certifies  me  of 
the  equity  which  checkmates  every  false  player, 
bankrupts  every  self-seeker,  and  apprises  me  of 
my  independence  on  any  conditions  of  country, 
or  time,  or  human  body,  that  man  liberates  me  ;  I 
forget  the  clock.  I  pass  out  of  the  sore  relation 
to  persons.  I  am  healed  of  my  hurts.  I  am 
made  immortal  by  apprehending  my  possession 
of  incorruptible  goods.  Here  is  great  competi- 
tion of  rich  and  poor.  We  live  in  a  market, 
where  is  only  so  much  wheat,  or  wool,  or  land ; 
and  if  I  have  so  much  more,  every  other  must 
have  so  much  less.  I  seem  to  have  no  good, 
without  breach  of  good  manners.  Nobody  is  glad 
in  the  gladness  of  another,  and  our  system  is  one 
of  war,  of  an  injurious  superiority.  Every  child 
of  the  Saxon  race  is  educated  to  wish  to  be  first. 
It  is  our  system ;  and  a  man  comes  to  measure  his 
greatness  by  the  regrets,  envies,  and  hatreds  of  his 
competitors.  But  in  these  new  fields  there  is 
room  :  here  are  no  self-esteems,  no  exclusions. 


28  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

I  admire  great  men  of  all  classes,  those  who 
stand  for  facts,  and  for  thoughts  ;  I  like  rough 
and  smooth,  "  Scourges  of  God,"  and  "  Darlings 
of  the  human  race."  I  like  the  first  Csesar  ;  and 
Charles  Y.,  of  Spain  ;  and  Charles  XII.,  of  Swe- 
den ;  Richard  Plantagenet ;  and  Bonaparte,  in 
France.  I  applaud  a  sufficient  man,  an  officer 
equal  to  his  office  ;  captains,  ministers,  senators. 
I  like  a  master  standing  firm  on  legs  of  iron,  well- 
born, rich,  handsome,  eloquent,  loaded  with 
advantages,  drawing  all  men  by  fascination  into 
tributaries  and  supporters  of  his  power.  Sword 
and  staff,  or  talents  sword-like  or  staff-like,  carry- 
on  the  work  of  the  world.  But  I  find  him  greater, 
when  he  can  abolish  himself,  and  all  heroes,  by 
letting  in  this  element  of  reason,  irrespective  of 
persons ;  this  subtiliser,  and  irresistible  upward 
force,  into  our  thought,  destroying  individualism ; 
the  power  so  great,  that  the  potentate  is  nothing. 
Then  he  is  a  monarch,  who  gives  a  constitution 
to  his  people  ;  a  pontiff,  who  preaches  the  equality 
of  souls,  and  releases  his  servants  from  their  bar- 
barous homages  ;  an  emperor,  who  can  spare  his 
empire. 

But  I  intended  to  specify,  with  a  little  minute- 
ness, two  or  three  points  of  service.  Nature 
never  spares  the  opium  or  nepenthe ;  but,  wher- 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  29 

ever  she  mars  her  creature  with  some  deformity 
or  defect,  lays  her  poppies  plentifully  on  the 
bruise,  and  the  sufferer  goes  joyfully  through  life, 
ignorant  of  the  ruin,  and  incapable  of  seeing  it, 
though  all  the  world  point  their  finger  at  it 
every  day.  The  worthless  and  offensive  mem- 
bers of  society,  whose  existence  is  a  social  pest, 
invariably  think  themselves  the  most  ill-used 
people  alive,  and  never  get  over  their  astonish- 
ment at  the  ingratitude  and  selfishness  of  their 
contemporaries.  Our  globe  discovers  its  hidden 
virtues,  not  only  in  heroes  and  archangels,  but  in 
gossips  and  nurses.  Is  it  not  a  rare  contrivance 
that  lodged  the  due  inertia  in  every  creature,  the 
conserving,  resisting  energy,  the  anger  at  being 
waked  or  changed?  Altogether  independent  of 
the  intellectual  force  in  each,  is  the  pride  of 
opinion,  the  security  that  we  are  right.  Not  the 
feeblest  grandame,  not  a  mowing  idiot,  but  uses 
what  spark  of  perception  and  faculty  is  left,  to 
chuckle  and  triumph  in  his  or  her  opinion  over 
the  absurdities  of  all  the  rest.  Difference  from 
me  is  the  measure  of  absurdity.  Not  one  has  a 
misgiving  of  being  wrong.  Was  it  not  a  bright 
thought  that  made  things  cohere  with  this  bitu- 
men, fastest  of  cements  ?  But,  in  the  midst  of 
this  chuckle  of  self-gratulation,  some  figure  goes 
by,  which  Thersites  too  can  love  and  admire. 
3* 


30  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

This  is  he  that  should  marshal  us  the  way  we 
were  going.  There  is  no  end  to  his  aid.  With- 
out Plato,  we  should  almost  lose  our  faith  in  the 
possibility  of  a  reasonable  book.  We  seem 
to  want  but  one,  but  we  want  one.  We  love  to 
associate  with  heroic  persons,  since  our  receptivity 
is  unlimited  j  and,  with  the  great,  our  thoughts 
and  manners  easily  become  great.  We  are  all 
wise  in  capacity,  though  so  few  in  energy.  There 
needs  but  one  wise  man  in  a  company,  and  all  are 
wise,  so  rapid  is  the  contagion. 

Great  men  are  thus  a  collyrium  to  clear  our 
eyes  from  egotism,  and  enable  us  to  see  other 
people  and  their  works.  But  there  are  vices  and 
follies  incident  to  whole  populations  and  ages. 
Men  resemble  their  contemporaries,  even  more 
than  their  progenitors.  It  is  observed  in  old 
couples,  or  in  persons  who  have  been  housemates 
for  a  course  of  years,  that  they  grow  alike  ;  and, 
if  they  should  live  long  enough,  we  should  not 
be  able  to  know  them  apart.  Nature  abhors  these 
complaisances,  which  threaten  to  melt  the  world 
into  a  lump,  and  hastens  to  break  up  such  maud- 
lin agglutinations.  The  like  assimilation  goes  on 
between  men  of  one  town,  of  one  sect,  of  one 
political  party ;  and  the  ideas  of  the  time  are  in 
the  air,  and  infect  all  who  breathe  it.  Viewed 
from    any   high   point,  this   city  of  New  York, 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  31 

yonder  city  of  London,  the  western  civilization, 
would  seem  a  bundle  of  insanities.  We  keep 
each  other  in  countenance,  and  exasperate  by 
emulation  the  frenzy  of  the  time.  The  shield 
against  the  stingings  of  conscience,  is  the  univer- 
sal practice,  or  our  contemporaries.  Again ;  it  is 
very  easy  to  be  as  wise  and  good  as  your  com- 
panions. We  learn  of  our  contemporaries  what 
they  know,  without  efTort,  and  almost  through 
the  pores  of  the  skin.  We  catch  it  by  sympathy, 
or,  as  a  wife  arrives  at  the  intellectual  and  moral 
elevations  of  her  husband.  But  we  stop  where 
they  stop.  Yery  hardly  can  we  take  another 
step.  The  great,  or  such  as  hold  of  nature,  and 
transcend  fashions,  by  their  fidelity  to  universal 
ideas,  are  saviors  from  these  federal  errors,  and 
defend  us  from  our  contemporaries.  They  are 
the  exceptions  which  we  want,  where  all  grows 
alike.  A  foreign  greatness  is  the  antidote  for 
cabalism. 

Thus  we  feed  on  genius,  and  refresh  ourselves 
from  too  much  conversation  with  our  mates,  and 
exult  in  the  depth  of  nature  in  that  direction  in 
which  he  leads  us.  What  indemnification  is  one 
great  man  for  populations  of  pigmies !  Every 
mother  wishes  one  son  a  genius,  though  all  the 
rest  should  be  mediocre.  But  a  new  danger  ap- 
pears in  the  excess  of  influence  of  the  great  man. 


32  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

His  attractions  warp  us  from  our  place.  We  have 
become  underlings  and  intellectual  suicides.  Ah ! 
yonder  in  the  horizon  is  our  help  :  —  other  great 
men,  new  qualities,  counterweights  and  checks  on 
each  other.  We  cloy  of  the  honey  of  each  pe- 
culiar greatness.  Every  hero  becomes  a  bore  at 
last.  Perhaps  Voltaire  was  not  bad-hearted,  yet 
he  said  of  the  good  Jesus,  even,  "  I  pray  you,  let 
me  never  hear  that  man's  name  again."  They 
cry  up  the  virtues  of  George  Washington, — 
"  Damn  George  Washington ! "  is  the  poor  Jaco- 
bin's whole  speech  and  confutation.  But  it  is 
human  nature's  indispensable  defence.  The  cen- 
tripetence  augments  the  centrifugence.  We  bal- 
ance one  man  with  his  opposite,  and  the  health 
of  the  state  depends  on  the  see-saw. 

There  is,  however,  a  speedy  limit  to  the  use 
of  heroes.  Every  genius  is  defended  from  ap- 
proach by  quantities  of  unavailableness.  They 
are  very  attractive,  and  seem  at  a  distance  our 
own :  but  we  are  hindered  on  all  sides  from 
approach.  The  more  we  are  drawn,  the  more 
we  are  repelled.  There  is  something  not  solid 
in  the  good  that  is  done  for  us.  The  best 
discovery  the  discoverer  makes  for  himself. 
It  has  something  unreal  for  his  companion, 
until  he  too  has  substantiated  it.  It  seems  as 
if  the  Deity  dressed  each  soul  which  he  sends 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  33 

into  nature  in  certain  virtues  and  powers  not 
communicable  to  other  men,  and,  sending  it  to 
perform  one  more  turn  through  the  circle  of 
beings,  wrote  "  Not  transferable"  and  "  Good 
for  this  trip  only"  on  these  garments  of  the 
soul.  There  is  somewhat  deceptive  about  the 
intercourse  of  minds.  The  boundaries  are 
invisible,  but  they  are  never  crossed.  There 
is  such  good  will  to  impart,  and  such  good 
will  to  receive,  that  each  threatens  to  become 
the  other ;  but  the  law  of  individuality  col- 
lects its  secret  strength :  you  are  you,  and  I 
am  I,  and  so  we  remain. 

For  nature  wishes  every  thing  to  remain 
itself;  and,  whilst  every  individual  strives  to 
grow  and  exclude,  and  to  exclude  and  grow, 
to  the  extremities  of  the  universe,  and  to 
impose  the  law  of  its  being  on  every  other 
creature,  Nature  steadily  aims  to  protect  each 
against  every  other.  Each  is  self-defended. 
Nothing  is  more  marked  than  the  power  by 
which  individuals  are  guarded  from  individuals, 
in  a  world  where  every  benefactor  becomes  so 
easily  a  malefactor,  only  by  continuation  of  his 
activity  into  places  where  it  is  not  due ;  where 
children  seem  so  much  at  the  mercy  of  their 
foolish  parents,  and  where  almost  all  men  are 
too   social   and   interfering.      We   rightly   speak 


34  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

of  the  guardian  angels  of  children,  How 
superior  in  their  security  from  infusions  of 
evil  persons,  from  vulgarity  and  second  thought ! 
They  shed  their  own  abundant  beauty  on  the 
objects  they  behold.  Therefore,  they  are  not 
at  the  mercy  of  such  poor  educators  as  we 
adults.  If  we  huff  and  chide  them,  they  soon 
come  not  to  mind  it,  and  get  a  self-reliance  ; 
and  if  we  indulge  them  to  folly,  they  learn 
the  limitation  elsewhere. 

We  need  not  fear  excessive  influence.  A 
more  generous  trust  is  permitted.  Serve  the 
great.  Stick  at  no  humiliation.  Grudge  no 
office  thou  canst  render.  Be  the  limb  of  their 
body,  the  breath  of  their  mouth.  Compromise 
thy  egotism.  Who  cares  for  that,  so  thou 
gain  aught  wider  and  nobler  ?  Never  mind 
the  taunt  of  Boswellism :  the  devotion  may 
easily  be  greater  than  the  wretched  pride 
which  is  guarding  its  own  skirts.  Be  another : 
not  thyself,  but  a  Platonist ;  not  a  soul,  but  a 
Christian ;  not  a  naturalist,  but  a  Cartesian ; 
not  a  poet,  but  a  Shaksperian.  In  vain,  the 
wheels  of  tendency  will  not  stop,  nor  will  all 
the  forces  of  inertia,  fear,  or  of  love  itself, 
hold  thee  there.  On,  and  forever  onward ! 
The  microscope  observes  a  monad  or  wheel- 
insect  among  the  infusories  circulating  in  water. 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  35 

Presently,  a  dot  appears  on  the  animal,  which 
enlarges  to  a  slit,  and  it  becomes  two  perfect 
animals.  The  ever-proceeding  detachment  ap- 
pears not  less  in  all  thought,  and  in  society. 
Children  think  they  cannot  live  without  their 
parents.  But,  long  before  they  are  aware  of 
it,  the  black  dot  has  appeared,  and  the  detach- 
ment taken  place.  Any  accident  will  now 
reveal  to  them  their   independence. 

But  great  men :  —  the  word  is  injurious.  Is 
there  caste  ?  is  there  fate  ?  What  becomes  of 
the  promise  to  virtue  ?  The  thoughtful  youth 
laments  the  superfoetation  of  nature.  '  Gener- 
ous and  handsome,'  he  says,  'is  your  hero;  but 
look  at  yonder  poor  Paddy,  whose  country  is 
his  wheelbarrow;  look  at  his  whole  nation  of 
Paddies.'  Why  are  the  masses,  from  the  dawn 
of  history  down,  food  for  knives  and  powder? 
The  idea  dignifies  a  few  leaders,  who  have 
sentiment,  opinion,  love,  self-devotion ;  and  they 
make  war  and  death  sacred  ;  —  but  what  for 
the  wretches  whom  they  hire  and  kill  ?  The 
cheapness  of  man  is  every  day's  tragedy.  It 
is  as  real  a  loss  that  others  should  be  low, 
as  that  we  should  be  low  ;  for  we  must  have 
society. 

Is   it   a   reply   to    these   suggestions,  to   say, 


36  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

society  is  a  Pestalozzian  school :  all  are  teach- 
ers and  pupils  in  turn.  We  are  equally  served 
by  receiving  and  by  imparting.  Men  who 
know  the  same  things,  are  not  long  the  best 
company  for  each  other.  But  bring  to  each 
an  intelligent  person  of  another  experience, 
and  it  is  as  if  you  let  off  water  from  a  lake, 
by  cutting  a  lower  basin.  It  seems  a  mechani- 
cal advantage,  and  great  benefit  it  is  to  each 
speaker,  as  he  can  now  paint  out  his  thought 
to  himself.  We  pass  very  fast,  in  our  personal 
moods,  from  dignity  to  dependence.  And  if 
any  appear  never  to  assume  the  chair,  but 
always  to  stand  and  serve,  it  is  because  we 
do  not  see  the  company  in  a  sufficiently  long 
period  for  the  whole  rotation  of  parts  to  come 
about.  As  to  what  we  call  the  masses,  and 
common  men ;  —  there  are  no  common  men. 
All  men  are  at  last  of  a  size  ;  and  true  art  is 
only  possible,  on  the  conviction  that  every 
talent  has  its  apotheosis  somewhere.  Fair  play, 
and  an  open  field,  and  freshest  laurels  to  all 
who  have  won  them  !  But  heaven  reserves  an 
equal  scope  for  every  creature.  Each  is  uneasy 
until  he  has  produced  his  private  ray  unto 
the  concave  sphere,  and  beheld  his  talent 
also   in  its  last  nobility  and   exaltation. 

The   heroes  of  the  hour  are  relatively  great : 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  37 

of  a  faster  growth ;  or  they  are  such,  in  whom, 
at  the  moment  of  success,  a  quality  is  ripe 
which  is  then  in  request.  Other  days  will 
demand  other  qualities.  Some  rays  escape  the 
common  observer,  and  want  a  finely  adapted 
eye.  Ask  the  great  man  if  there  be  none 
greater.  His  companions  are ;  and  not  the 
iess  great,  but  the  more,  that  society  cannot 
see  them.  Nature  never  sends  a  great  man 
mto  the  planet,  without  confiding  the  secret 
to  another  soul. 

One  gracious  fact  emerges  from  these  studies,  — 
that  there  is  true  ascension  in  our  love.  The 
reputations  of  the  nineteenth  century  will  one 
day  be  quoted,  to  prove  its  barbarism.  The 
genius  of  humanity  is  the  real  subject  whose 
biography  is  written  in  our  annals.  We  must 
infer  much,  and  supply  many  chasms  in  the 
record.  The  history  of  the  universe  is  sympto- 
matic, and  life  is  mnemonical.  No  man,  in  all 
the  procession  of  famous  men,  is  reason  or  illumi- 
nation, or  that  essence  we  were  looking  for ;  but 
is  an  exhibition,  in  some  quarter,  of  new  possibili- 
ties. Could  we  one  day  complete  the  immense 
figure  which  these  flagrant  points  compose  !  The 
study  of  many  individuals  leads  us  to  an  elemen- 
tal region  wherein  the  individual  is  lost,  or 
wherein  all  touch  by  their  summits.  Thought 
4 


38  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  feeling,  that  break  out  there,  cannot  be  im- 
pounded by  any  fence  of  personality.  This  is  the 
key  to  the  power  of  the  greatest  men,  —  their  spirit 
diffuses  itself.  A  new  quality  of  mind  travels  by 
night  and  by  day,  in  concentric  circles  from  its 
origin,  and  publishes  itself  by  unknown  methods  : 
the  union  of  all  minds  appears  intimate  :  what 
gets  admission  to  one,  cannot  be  kept  out  of  any 
other :  the  smallest  acquisition  of  truth  or  of 
energy,  in  any  quarter,  is  so  much  good  to  the 
commonwealth  of  souls.  If  the  disparities  of 
talent  and  position  vanish,  when  the  individuals 
are  seen  in  the  duration  which  is  necessary  to 
complete  the  career  of  each ;  even  more  swiftly 
the  seeming  injustice  disappears,  when  we  ascend 
to  the  central  identity  of  all  the  individuals,  and 
know  that  they  are  made  of  the  substance  which 
ordaineth  and  doeth. 

The  genius  of  humanity  is  the  right  point  of 
view  of  history.  The  qualities  abide ;  the  men 
who  exhibit  them  have  now  more,  now  less,  and 
pass  away ;  the  qualities  remain  on  another  bro  vv. 
No  experience  is  more  familiar.  Once  you  saw 
phoenixes  :  they  are  gone  ;  the  world  is  not  there^ 
fore  disenchanted.  The  vessels  on  which  you 
read  sacred  emblems  turn  out  to  be  common  pot- 
tery ;  but  the  sense  of  the  pictures  is  sacred,  and 
you  may  still  read  them  transferred  to  the  waBs 


USES    OF    GREAT    MEN.  39 

of  the  world.  For  a  time,  our  teachers  serve  us 
personally,  as  metres  or  milestones  of  progress. 
Once  they  were  angels  of  knowledge,  and  their 
figures  touched  the  sky.  Then  we  drew  near, 
saw  their  means,  culture,  and  limits ;  and  they 
yielded  their  place  to  other  geniuses.  Happy,  if 
a  few  names  remain  so  high,  that  we  have  not 
been  able  to  read  them  nearer,  and  age  and  com- 
parison have  not  robbed  them  of  a  ray.  But,  at 
last,  we  shall  cease  to  look  in  men  for  complete- 
ness, and  shall  content  ourselves  with  their  social 
and  delegated  quality.  All  that  respects  the 
individual  is  temporary  and  prospective,  like  the 
individual  himself,  who  is  ascending  out  of  his 
limits,  into  a  catholic  existence.  We  have  never 
come  at  the  true  and  best  benefit  of  any  genius, 
so  long  as  we  believe  him  an  original  force.  In 
the  moment  when  he  ceases  to  help  us  as  a  cause, 
he  begins  to  help  us  more  as  an  effect.  Then  he 
appears  as  an  exponent  of  a  vaster  mind  and  will. 
The  opaque  self  becomes  transparent  with  the  light 
of  the  First  Cause. 

Yet,  within  the  limits  of  human  education  and 
agency,  we  may  say,  great  men  exist  that  there 
may  be  greater  men.  The  destiny  of  organized 
nature  is  amelioration,  and  who  can  tell  its  limits  ? 
It  is  for  man  to  tame  the  chaos ;  on  every  side, 


40  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN* 

whilst  he  lives,  to  scatter  the  seeds  of  science  and 
of  song,  that  climate,  corn,  animals,  menr  may  be 
milder,  and  the  germs  of  love  and  benefit  may  be 
multiplied. 


PLATO; 

OR, 

THE   PHILOSOPHER. 


II. 

PLATO;   OR,  THE  PHILOSOPHER 


Among  books,  Plato  only  is  entitled  to  Omar's 
fanatical  compliment  to  the  Koran,  when  he  said, 
"Burn  the  libraries;  for,  their  value  is  in  this 
book."  These  sentences  contain  the  culture  of 
nations ;  these  are  the  corner-stone  of  schools  ; 
these  are  the  fountain-head  of  literatures.  A 
discipline  it  is  in  logic,  arithmetic,  taste,  symme- 
try, poetry,  language,  rhetoric,  ontology,  morals, 
or  practical  wisdom.  There  was  never  such 
range  of  speculation.  Out  of  Plato  come  all 
things  that  are  still  written  and  debated  among 
men  of  thought.  Great  havoc  makes  he  among 
our  originalities.  We  have  reached  the  mountain 
from  which  all  these  drift  boulders  were  detached. 
The  Bible  of  the  learned  for  twenty-two  hundred 
years,  every  brisk  young  man,  who  says  in  succes- 
sion fine  things  to  each  reluctant  generation, — Boe- 
thius,  Rabelais,  Erasmus,  Bruno,  Locke,  Rousseau, 


44  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Alfieri,  Coleridge,  —  is  some  reader  of  Plato,  trans- 
lating into  the  vernacular,  wittily,  his  good  things. 
Even  the  men  of  grander  proportion  suffer  some 
deduction  from  the  misfortune  (shall  I  say  ?)  of 
coming  after  this  exhausting  generalizer.  St. 
Augustine,  Copernicus,  Newton,  Behmen,  Swe- 
denborg,  Goethe,  are  likewise  his  debtors,  and 
must  say  after  him.  For  it  is  fair  to  credit  the 
broadest  generalizer  with  all  the  particulars  dedu- 
cible  from  his  thesis. 

Plato  is  philosophy,  and  philosophy,  Plato, — 
at  once  the  glory  and  the  shame  of  mankind, 
since  neither  Saxon  nor  Roman  have  availed  to 
add  any  idea  to  his  categories.  No  wife,  no  chil- 
dren had  he,  and  the  thinkers  of  all  civilized 
nations  are  his  posterity,  and  are  tinged  with  his 
mind.  How  many  great  men  Nature  is  inces- 
santly sending  up  out  of  night,  to  be  his 
men,  —  Platonists  !  the  Alexandrians,  a  constel- 
lation of  genius ;  the  Elizabethans,  not  less  ; 
Sir  Thomas  More,  Henry  More,  John  Hales, 
John  Smith,  Lord  Bacon,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Ralph 
Cudworth,  Sydenham,  Thomas  Taylor ;  Mar- 
cilius  Ficinus,  and  Picus  Mirandola.  Calvinism 
is  in  his  Phsedo :  Christianity  is  in  it.  Mahom- 
etanism  draws  all  its  philosophy,  in  its  hand- 
book of  morals,  the  Akhlak-y-Jalaly,  from  him. 
Mysticism   finds   in   Plato    all    its    texts.      This 


PLATO  J    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  45 

citizen  of  a  town  in  Greece  is  no  villager  nor 
patriot.  An  Englishman  reads  and  says,  'how 
English  ! '  a  German,  —  '  how  Teutonic  !  '  an 
Italian,  — l  how  Roman  and  how  Greek ! 7  As 
they  say  that  Helen  of  Argos,  had  that  universal 
beauty  that  every  body  felt  related  to  her,  so 
Plato  seems,  to  a  reader  in  New  England,  an 
American  genius.  His  broad  humanity  transcends 
all  sectional  lines. 

This  range  of  Plato  instructs  us  what  to  think 
of  the  vexed  question  concerning  his  reputed 
works,  —  what  are  genuine,  what  spurious.  It  is 
singular  that  wherever  we  find  a  man  higher,  by 
a  whole  head,  than  any  of  his  contemporaries,  it 
is  sure  to  come  into  doubt,  what  are  his  real 
works.  Thus,  Homer,  Plato,  Raffaelle,  Shak- 
speare.  For  these  men  magnetise  their  contem- 
poraries, so  that  their  companions  can  do  for  them 
what  they  can  never  do  for  themselves ;  and  the 
great  man  does  thus  live  in  several  bodies,  and 
write,  or  paint,  or  act,  by  many  hands  :  and,  after 
some  time,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  what  is  the  au- 
thentic work  of  the  master,  and  what  is  only  of 
his  school. 

Plato,  too,  like  every  great  man,  consumed  his 
own  times.  What  is  a  great  man,  but  one  of 
great  affinities,  who  takes  up  into  himself  all  arts, 
all   knowables,  as   his  food?     He  can 


46  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

spare  nothing  ;  he  can  dispose  of  every  thing. 
What  is  not  good  for  virtue,  is  good  for  know- 
ledge. Hence  his  contemporaries  tax  him  with 
plagiarism.  But  the  inventor  only  knows  how  to 
borrow ;  and  society  is  glad  to  forget  the  innu- 
merable laborers  who  ministered  to  this  architect, 
and  reserves  all  its  gratitude  for  him.  When  we 
are  praising  Plato,  it  seems  we  are  praising  quota- 
tions from  Solon,  and  Sophron,  and  Philolaus. 
Be  it  so.  Every  book  is  a  quotation  ;  and  every 
house  is  a  quotation  out  of  all  forests,  and  mines, 
and  stone  quarries ;  and  every  man  is  a  quotation 
from  all  his  ancestors.  And  this  grasping  inventor 
puts  all  nations  under  contribution. 

Plato  absorbed  the  learning  of  his  times,  —  Phi- 
lolaus, Timeeus,  Heraclitus,  Parmenides,  and  what 
else  ;  then  his  master,  Socrates  ;  and,  finding  him- 
self still  capable  of  a  larger  synthesis, — beyond 
all  example  then  or  since,  —  he  travelled  into 
Italy,  to  gain  what  Pythagoras  had  for  him ;  then 
into  Egypt,  and  perhaps  still  farther  east,  to  im- 
port the  other  element,  which  Europe  wanted, 
into  the  European  mind.  This  breadth  entitles 
him  to  stand  as  the  representative  of  philosophy- 
He  says,  in  the  Republic,  "  Such  a  genius  as 
philosophers  must  of  necessity  have,  is  wont  but 
seldom,  in  all  its  parts,  to  meet  in  one  man ;  but 
its  different  parts  generally  spring  up  in  different 


PLATO ;    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  4/ 

persons."  Every  man,  who  would  do  any  thing 
well,  must  come  to  it  from  a  higher  ground.  A 
philosopher  must  be  more  than  a  philosopher. 
Plato  is  clothed  with  the  powers  of  a  poet,  stands 
upon  the  highest  place  of  the  poet,  and,  (though 
I  doubt  he  wanted  the  decisive  gift  of  lyric  ex- 
pression,) mainly  is  not  a  poet,  because  he  chose 
to  use  the  poetic  gift  to  an  ulterior  purpose. 

Great  geniuses  have  the  shortest  biographies. 
Their  cousins  can  tell  you  nothing  about  them. 
They  lived  in  their  writings,  and  so  their  house 
and  street  life  was  trivial  and  commonplace.  If 
you  would  know  their  tastes  and  complexions,, 
the  most  admiring  of  their  readers  most  resembles 
them.  Plato,  especially,  has  no  external  biog- 
raphy. If  he  had  lover,  wife,  or  children,  we 
hear  nothing  of  them.  He  ground  them  all  into 
paint.  As  a  good  chimney  burns  its  smoke,  so 
a  philosopher  converts  the  value  of  all  his  for- 
tunes into  his  intellectual  performances. 

He  was  born  430,  A.  C,  about  the  time  of  the 
death  of  Pericles ;  was  of  patrician  connection  in 
his  times  and  city ;  and  is  said  to  have  had  an 
early  inclination  for  war ;  but,  in  his  twentieth 
year,  meeting  with  Socrates,  was  easily  dissuaded 
from  this  pursuit,  and  remained  for  ten  years  his 
scholar,  until  the  death  of  Socrates.  He  then 
Avent  to  Megara ;  accepted  the  invitations  of  Dion 


48  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  of  Dionysius,  to  the  court  of  Sicily  ;  and  went 
thither  three  times,  though  very  capriciously 
treated.  He  travelled  into  Italy  j  then  into 
Egypt,  where  he  stayed  a  long  time ;  some  say 
three,  — =-  some  say  thirteen  years.  It  is  said,  he 
went  farther,  into  Babylonia  :  this  is  uncertain. 
Returning  to  Athens,  he  gave  lessons,  in  the 
Academy,  to  those  whom  his  fame  drew  thither ; 
and  died,  as  we  have  received  it,  in  the  act  of 
writing,  at  eighty-one  years. 

But  the  biography  of  Plato  is  interior.  We 
are  to  account  for  the  supreme  elevation  of  this 
mail}  in  the  intellectual  history  of  our  race,  —  how 
it  happens  that,  in  proportion  to  the  culture  of 
men,  they  become  his  scholars ;  that,  as  our 
Jewish  Bible  has  implanted  itself  in  the  table- 
talk  and  household  life  of  every  man  and  woman 
in  the  European  and  American  nations,  so  the 
writings  of  Plato  have  preoccupied  every  school 
cf  learning,  every  lover  of  thought,  every  church, 
every  poet,  —  making  it  impossible  to  think,  on 
certain  levels,  except  through  him.  He  stands 
between  the  truth  and  every  man's  mind,  and  has 
almost  impressed  language,  and  the  primary  forms 
of  thought,  with  his  name  and  seal.  I  am  struck, 
in  reading  him,  with  the  extreme  modernness  of 
his  style  and  spirit.  Here  is  the  germ  of  that 
Europe  we  know  so  well,  in  its  long  history  of 


PLATO  J    OB,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  49 

arts  and  arms :  here  are  all  its  traits,  already  dis* 
cernible  in  the  mind  of  Plato,  —  and  in  none  before 
him.  It  has  spread  itself  since  into  a  hundred 
histories,  but  has  added  no  new  element.  This 
perpetual  modernness  is  the  measure  of  merit,  in 
every  work  of  art ;  since  the  author  of  it  was 
not  misled  by  any  thing  short-lived  or  local,  but 
abode  by  real  and  abiding  traits.  How  Plato 
came  thus  to  be  Europe,  and  philosophy,  and 
almost  literature,  is  the  problem  for  us  to 
solve. 

This  could  not  have  happened,  without  a  sound, 
sincere,  and  catholic  man,  able  to  honor,  at  the 
same  time,  the  ideal,  or  laws  of  the  mind,  and 
fate,  or  the  order  of  nature.  The  first  period  of  a 
nation,  as  of  an  individual,  is  the  period  of  uncon- 
scious strength.  Children  cry,  scream,  and 
stamp  with  fury,  unable  to  express  their  desires. 
As  soon  as  they  can  speak  and  tell  their  want, 
and  the  reason  of  it,  they  become  gentle.  In 
adult  life,  whilst  the  perceptions  are  obtuse,  men 
and  women  talk  vehemently  and  superlatively, 
blunder  and  quarrel :  their  manners  are  full  of 
desperation ;  their  speech  is  full  of  oaths.  As 
soon  as,  with  culture,  things  have  cleared  up  a 
little,  and  they  see  them  no  longer  in  lumps  and 
masses,  but  accurately  distributed,  they  desist 
from  that  weak  vehemence,  and  explain  their 
5 


50  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

meaning  in  detail.  If  the  tongue  had  not  been 
framed  for  articulation,  man  would  still  be  a  beast 
in  the  forest.  The  same  weakness  and  want, 
on  a  higher  plane,  occurs  daily  in  the  education 
of  ardent  young  men  and  women.  '  Ah !  you 
don't  understand  me  ;  I  have  never  met  with  any 
one  who  comprehends  me  :  '  and  they  sigh  and 
weep,  write  verses,  and  walk  alone, — fault  of 
power  to  express  their  precise  meaning.  In  a 
month  or  two,  through  the  favor  of  their  good 
genius,  they  meet  some  one  so  related  as  to  assist 
their  volcanic  estate  ;  and,  good  communication 
being  once  established,  they  are  thenceforward 
good  citizens.  It  is  ever  thus.  The  progress  is 
to  accuracy,  to  skill,  to  truth,  from  blind  force. 

There  is  a  moment,  in  the  history  of  every 
nation,  when,  proceeding  out  of  this  brute  youth, 
the  perceptive  powers  reach  their  ripeness,  and 
have  not  yet  become  microscopic  :  so  that  man,  at 
that  instant,  extends  across  the  entire  scale  ;  and, 
with  his  feet  still  planted  on  the  immense  forces 
of  night,  converses,  by  his  eyes  and  brain,  with 
solar  and  stellar  creation.  That  is  the  moment 
of  adult  health,  the  culmination  of  power. 

Such  is  the  history  of  Europe,  in  all  points  ;  and 
such  in  philosophy.  Its  early  records,  almost  per- 
ished, are  of  the  immigrations  from  Asia,  bringing 
with  them  the  dreams  of  barbarians  ;  a  confusion 


PLATO  J    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  51 

of  crude  notions  of  morals,  and  of  natural  philos- 
ophy, gradually  subsiding,  through  the  partial 
insight  of  single  teachers. 

Before  Pericles,  came  the  Seven  Wise  Masters ; 
and  we  have  the  beginnings  of  geometry,  meta- 
physics, and  ethics  :  then  the  partialists,  —  dedu- 
cing the  origin  of  things  from  flux  or  water,  or  from 
air,  or  from  fire,  or  from  mind.  All  mix  with 
these  causes  mythologic  pictures.  At  last,  comes 
Plato,  the  distributor,  who  needs  no  barbaric 
paint,  or  tattoo,  or  whooping ;  for  he  can  define. 
He  leaves  with  Asia  the  vast  and  superlative  j  he 
is  the  arrival  of  accuracy  and  intelligence.  "  He 
shall  be  as  a  god  to  me,  who  can  rightly  divide 
and  define." 

This  defining  is  philosophy.  Philosophy  is  the 
account  which  the  human  mind  gives  to  itself  of 
the  constitution  of  the  world.  Two  cardinal  facts 
lie  forever  at  the  base  ;  the  one,  and  the  two.  — 
1.  Unity,  or  Identity;  and,  2.  Yariety.  We  unite 
all  things,  by  perceiving  the  law  which  pervades 
them  ;  by  perceiving  the  superficial  differences,  and 
the  profound  resemblances.  But  every  mental 
act,  —  this  very  perception  of  identity  or  oneness, 
recognizes  the  difference  of  things.  Oneness  and 
otherness.  It  is  impossible  to  speak,  or  to  think, 
without  embracing  both. 

The  mind  is  urged  to  ask  for  one  cause  of  many 


52  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

effects  ;  then  for  the  cause  of  that ;  and  again  the 
cause,  diving  still  into  the  profound :  self-assured 
that  it  shall  arrive  at  an  absolute  and  sufficient 
one,  —  a  one  that  shall  be  all.  "  In  the  midst  of 
the  sun  is  the  light,  in  the  midst  of  the  light  is 
truth,  and  in  the  midst  of  truth  is  the  imperisha- 
ble being,"  say  the  Vedas.  All  philosophy,  of 
east  and  west,  has  the  same  centripetence. 
Urged  by  an  opposite  necessity,  the  mind  returns 
from  the  one,  to  that  which  is  not  one,  but  other 
or  many  j  from  cause  to  effect ;  and  affirms  the 
necessary  existence  of  variety,  the  self-existence 
of  both,  as  each  is  involved  in  the  other. 
These  strictly-blended  elements  it  is  the  prob- 
lem of  thought  to  separate,  and  to  reconcile. 
Their  existence  is  mutually  contradictory  and 
exclusive  ;  and  each  so  fast  slides  into  the  other, 
that  we  can  never  say  what  is  one,  and  what  it  is 
not.  The  Proteus  is  as  nimble  in  the  highest  as 
in  the  lowest  grounds,  when  we  contemplate  the 
one,  the  true,  the  good, — as  in  the  surfaces  and 
extremities  of  matter. 

In  all  nations,  there  are  minds  which  incline  to 
dwell  in  the  conception  of  the  fundamental  Unity. 
The  raptures  of  prayer  and  ecstasy  of  devotion 
lose  all  being  in  one  Being.  This  tendency  finds 
its  highest  expression  in  the  religious  writings  of 
the  East,  and  chiefly,  in  the  Indian  Scriptures,  in 


PLATO  ;    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  53 

the  Vedas,  the  Bhagavat  Geeta,  and  the  Vishnu 
Purana.  Those  writings  contain  little  else  than 
this  idea,  and  they  rise  to  pure  and  sublime  strains 
in  celebrating  it. 

The  Same,  the  Same  :  friend  and  foe  are  of  one 
stuff :  the  ploughman,  the  plough,  and  the  furrow, 
are  of  one  stuff;  and  the  stuff  is  such,  and  so 
much,  that  the  variations  of  form  are  unimpor- 
tant. "  You  are  fit,"  (says  the  supreme  Krishna  to  a 
sage,)  "  to  apprehend  that  you  are  not  distinct  from 
me.  That  which  I  am,  thou  art,  and  that  also  is 
this  world,  with  its  gods,  and  heroes,  and  man- 
kind. Men  contemplate  distinctions,  because 
they  are  stupefied  with  ignorance."  "  The  words 
/  and  mine  constitute  ignorance.  What  is  the 
great  end  of  all,  you  shall  now  learn  from  me. 
It  is  soul,  —  one  in  all  bodies,  pervading,  uniform, 
perfect,  preeminent  over  nature,  exempt  from 
birth,  growth,  and  decay,  omnipresent,  made  up 
of  true  knowledge,  independent,  unconnected 
with  unrealities,  with  name,  species,  and  the  rest, 
in  time  past,  present,  and  to  come.  The  know- 
ledge that  this  spirit,  which  is  essentially  one,  is  in 
one's  own,  and  in  all  other  bodies,  is  the  wisdom 
of  one  who  knows  the  unity  of  things.  As  one 
diffusive  air,  passing  through  the  perforations  of  a 
flute,  is  distinguished  as  the  notes  of  a  scale,  so 
the  nature  of  the  Great  Spirit  is  single,  though  its 
5* 


54  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

forms  be  manifold,  arising  from  the  consequences 
of  acts.  When  the  difference  of  the  investing 
form,  as  that  of  god,  or  the  rest,  is  destroyed, 
there  is  no  distinction."  "  The  whole  world  is 
but  a  manifestation  of  Yishnu,  who  is  identical 
with  all  things,  and  is  to  be  regarded  by  the  wise, 
as  not  differing  from,  but  as  the  same  as  them- 
selves. I  neither  am  going  nor  coming  j  nor  is  my 
dwelling  in  any  one  place  ;  nor  art  thou,  thou ;  nor 
are  others,  others ;  nor  am  I,  I."  As  if  he  had 
said,  '  All  is  for  the  soul,  and  the  soul  is  Vishnu ; 
and  animals  and  stars  are  transient  paintings ;  and 
light  is  whitewash ;  and  durations  are  deceptive  ; 
and  form  is  imprisonment ;  and  heaven  itself  a 
decoy.'  That  which  the  soul  seeks  is  resolution 
into  being,  above  form,  out  of  Tartarus,  and  out 
of  heaven,  —  liberation  from  nature. 

If  speculation  tends  thus  to  a  terrific  unity,  in 
which  all  things  are  absorbed,  action  tends  directly 
backwards  to  diversity.  The  first  is  the  course 
or  gravitation  of  mind ;  the  second  is  the  power 
of  nature.  Nature  is  the  manifold.  The  unity 
absorbs,  and  melts  or  reduces.  Nature  opens  and 
creates.  These  two  principles  reappear  and  inter- 
penetrate all  things,  all  thought ;  the  one,  the 
many.  One  is  being  ;  the  other,  intellect :  one  is 
necessity ;  the  other,  freedom :  one,  rest ;  the  other, 
motion  :  one,  power ;  the  other,  distribution :  one, 


PLATO  ;*    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  55 

strength  ;  the  other,  pleasure  :  one,  consciousness  ; 
the  other,  definition :  one,  genius ;  the  other,  tal- 
ent :  one,  earnestness ;  the  other,  knowledge  :  one, 
possession  ;  the  other,  trade  :  one,  caste  ;  the  other, 
culture  :  one,  king  ;  the  other,  democracy :  and,  if 
we  dare  carry  these  generalizations  a  step  higher, 
and  name  the  last  tendency  of  both,  we  might 
say,  that  the  end  of  the  one  is  escape  from  organ- 
ization, —  pure  science  ;  and  the  end  of  the  other  is 
the  highest  instrumentality,  or  use  of  means,  or 
executive  deity. 

Each  student  adheres,  by  temperament  and  by 
habit,  to  the  first  or  to  the  second  of  these  gods 
of  the  mind.  By  religion,  he  tends  to  unity ;  by 
intellect,  or  by  the  senses,  to  the  many.  A  too 
rapid  unification,  and  an  excessive  appliance  to 
parts  and  particulars,  are  the  twin  dangers  of  spec- 
ulation. 

To  this  partiality  the  history  of  nations  cor- 
responded. The  country  of  unity,  of  immovable 
institutions,  the  seat  of  a  philosophy  delighting 
in  abstractions,  of  men  faithful  in  doctrine  and 
in  practice  to  the  idea  of  a  deaf,  unimplorable, 
immense  fate,  is  Asia;  and  it  realizes  this  faith 
in  the  social  institution  of  caste.  On  the  other 
side,  the  genius  of  Europe  is  active  and  creative  : 
it  resists  caste  by  culture  ;  its  philosophy  was  a 
discipline ;  it  is  a  land  of  arts,  inventions,  trade, 


56  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

freedom.      If  the  East  loved  infinity,  the  West 
delighted  in  boundaries. 

European  civility  is  the  triumph  of  talent,  the 
extension  of  system,  the  sharpened  understanding, 
adaptive  skill,  delight  in  forms,  delight  in  man- 
ifestation, in  comprehensible  results.  Pericles, 
Athens,  Greece,  had  been  working  in  this  ele- 
ment with  the  joy  of  genius  not  yet  chilled  by 
any  foresight  of  the  detriment  of  an  excess. 
They  saw  before  them  no  sinister  political  econ- 
omy ;  no  ominous  Malthus  ;  no  Paris  or  London  ; 
no  pitiless  subdivision  of  classes,  —  the  doom  of  the 
pin-makers,  the  doom  of  the  weavers,  of  dressers, 
of  stockingers,  of  carders,  of  spinners,  of  colliers  ; 
no  Ireland  ;  no  Indian  caste,  superinduced  by  the 
efforts  of  Europe  to  throw  it  off.  The  under- 
standing was  in  its  health  and  prime.  Art  was 
in  its  splendid  novelty.  They  cut  the  Pentelican 
marble  as  if  it  were  snow,  and  their  perfect  works  in 
architecture  and  sculpture  seemed  things  of  course, 
not  more  difficult  than  the  completion  of  a  new 
ship  at  the  Medford  yards,  or  new  mills  at  Lowell. 
These  things  are  in  course,  and  may  be  taken  for 
granted.  The  Roman  legion,  Byzantine  legisla- 
tion, English  trade,  the  saloons  of  Versailles, 
the  cafes  of  Paris,  the  steam-mill,  steamboat, 
steam-coach,  may  all  be  seen  in  perspective  ;  the 


PLATO  J    OR,   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  57 

lown-meeting,  the  ballot-box,  the  newspaper  and 
cheap  press. 

Meantime,  Plato,  in  Egypt  and  in  eastern  pil- 
grimages, imbibed  the  idea  of  one  Deity,  in  which 
all  things  are  absorbed.  The  unity  of  Asia,  and 
the  detail  of  Europe  ;  the  infinitude  of  the  Asiatic 
soul,  and  the  defining,  result-loving,  machine- 
making,  surface-seeking,  opera-going  Europe,  — 
Plato  came  to  join,  and  by  contact,  to  enhance 
the  energy  of  each.  The  excellence  of  Europe 
and  Asia  are  in  his  brain.  Metaphysics  and  natu- 
ral philosophy  expressed  the  genius  of  Europe  ; 
he  substructs  the  religion  of  Asia,  as  the  base. 

In  short,  a  balanced  soul  was  born,  perceptive 
of  the  two  elements.  It  is  as  easy  to  be  great  as 
to  be  small.  The  reason  why  we  do  not  at  once 
believe  in  admirable  souls,  is  because  they  are  not 
in  our  experience.  In  actual  life,  they  are  so 
rare,  as  to  be  incredible ;  but,  primarily,  there  is 
not  only  no  presumption  against  them,  but  the 
strongest  presumption  in  favor  of  their  appearance. 
But  whether  voices  were  heard  in  the  sky,  or  not ; 
whether  his  mother  or  his  father  dreamed  that  the 
infant  man-child  was  the  son  of  Apollo  ;  whether 
a  swarm  of  bees  settled  on  his  lips,  or  not ;  a  man 
who  could  see  two  sides  of  a  thing  was  born. 
The  wonderful  synthesis  so   familiar  in  nature  \ 


58  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  upper  and  the  under  side  of  the  medal  of  Jove  ; 
the  union  of  impossibilities,  which  reappears  in 
every  object ;  its  real  and  its  ideal  power,  —  was 
now,  also,  transferred  entire  to  the  consciousness 
of  a  man. 

The  balanced  soul  came.  If  he  loved  abstract 
truth,  he  saved  himself  by  propounding  the  most 
popular  of  all  principles,  the  absolute  good,  which 
rules  rulers,  and  judges  the  judge.  If  he  made 
transcendental  distinctions,  he  fortified  himself  by 
drawing  all  his  illustrations  from  sources  disdained 
by  orators  and  polite  conversers ;  from  mares  and 
puppies  j  from  pitchers  and  soup-ladles  ;  from  cooks 
and  criers  j  the  shops  of  potters,  horse-doctors, 
butchers,  and  fishmongers.  He  cannot  forgive 
in  himself  a  partiality,  but  is  resolved  that  the  two 
poles  of  thought  shall  appear  in  his  statement. 
His  argument  and  his  sentence  are  self-poised  and 
spherical.  The  two  poles  appear ;  yes,  and  be- 
come two  hands,  to  grasp  and  appropriate  their 
own. 

Every  great  artist  has  been  such  by  synthesis. 
Our  strength  is  transitional,  alternating  ;  or,  shall  I 
say,  a  thread  of  two  strands.  The  sea-shore,  sea 
seen  from  shore,  shore  seen  from  sea ;  the  taste 
of  two  metals  in  contact ;  and  our  enlarged  pow- 
ers at  the  approach  and  at  the  departure  of  a 
friend  j    the    experience    of  poetic   creativeness, 


PLATO  ;    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  59 

which  is  not  found  in  staying  at  home,  nor  yet  in 
travelling,  but  in  transitions  from  one  to  the  other, 
which  must  therefore  be  adroitly  managed  to  pre- 
sent as  much  transitional  surface  as  possible  ;  this 
command  of  two  elements  must  explain  the  power 
and  the  charm  of  Plato.  Art  expresses  the  one, 
or  the  same  by  the  different.  Thought  seeks  to 
know  unity  in  unity ;  poetry  to  show  it  by  vari- 
ety ;  that  is,  always  by  an  object  or  symbol. 
Plato  keeps  the  two  vases,  one  of  aether  and  one 
of  pigment,  at  his  side,  and  invariably  uses  both. 
Things  added  to  things,  as  statistics,  civil  history, 
are  inventories.  Things  used  as  language  are 
inexhaustibly  attractive.  Plato  turns  incessantly 
the  obverse  and  the  reverse  of  the  medal  of 
Jove. 

To  take  an  example  :  —  The  physical  philoso- 
phers had  sketched  each  his  theory  of  the  world ; 
the  theory  of  atoms,  of  fire,  of  flux,  of  spirit ; 
theories  mechanical  and  chemical  in  their  genius. 
Plato,  a  master  of  mathematics,  studious  of  all 
natural  laws  and  causes,  feels  these,  as  second 
causes,  to  be  no  theories  of  the  world,  but  bare 
inventories  and  lists.  To  the  study  of  nature  he 
therefore  prefixes  the  dogma,  —  "  Let  us  declare 
the  cause  which  led  the  Supreme  Ordainer  to  pro- 
duce and  compose  the  universe.  He  was  good  ; 
and  he  who  is  good  has  no  kind  of  envy.     Ex- 


BO  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

empt  from  envy,  he  wished  that  all  things  should 
be  as  much  as  possible  like  himself.  Whosoever, 
taught  by  wise  men,  shall  admit  this  as  the  prime 
cause  of  the  origin  and  foundation  of  the  world, 
will  be  in  the  truth."  "All  things  are  for  the 
sake  of  the  good,  and  it  is  the  cause  of  every 
thing  beautiful."  This  dogma  animates  and  im- 
personates his  philosophy. 

The  synthesis  which  makes  the  character  of 
his  mind  appears  in  all  his  talents.  Where  there 
is  great  compass  of  wit,  we  usually  find  excellen- 
cies that  combine  easily  in  the  living  man,  but  in 
description  appear  incompatible.  The  mind  of 
Plato  is  not  to  be  exhibited  by  a  Chinese  cata- 
logue, but  is  to  be  apprehended  by  an  original 
mind  in  the  exercise  of  its  original  power.  In 
him  the  freest  abandonment  is  united  with  the 
precision  of  a  geometer.  His  daring  imagination 
gives  him  the  more  solid  grasp  of  facts ;  as  the 
birds  of  highest  flight  have  the  strongest  alar 
bones.  His  patrician  polish,  his  intrinsic  elegance, 
edged  by  an  irony  so  subtle  that  it  stings  and  par- 
alyses, adorn  the  soundest  health  and  strength  of 
frame.  According  to  the  old  sentence,  "If  Jove 
should  descend  to  the  earth,  he  would  speak  in 
the  style  of  Plato." 

With  this  palatial  air,  there  is,  for  the  direct  aim 
of  several  of  his  works,  and  running  through  the 


plato;  oh,  the  philosopher.  61 

tenor  of  them  all,  a  certain  earnestness,  which 
mounts,  in  the  Republic,  and  in  the  Phaedo,  to 
piety.  He  has  been  charged  with  feigning  sickness 
at  the  time  of  the  death  of  Socrates.  But  the  anec- 
dotes that  have  come  down  from  the  times  attest 
his  manly  interference  before  the  people  in  his 
master's  behalf,  since  even  the  savage  cry  of  the 
assembly  to  Plato  is  preserved  ;  and  the  indigna- 
tion towards  popular  government,  in  many  of  his 
pieces,  expresses  a  personal  exasperation.  He  has 
a  probity,  a  native  reverence  for  justice  and  honor, 
and  a  humanity  which  makes  him  tender  for  the 
superstitions  of  the  people.  Add  to  this,  he  believes 
that  poetry,  prophecy,  and  the  high  insight,  are 
from  a  wisdom  of  which  man  is  not  master ;  that 
the  gods  never  philosophise ;  but,  by  a  celestial 
mania,  these  miracles  are  accomplished.  Horsed 
on  these  winged  steeds,  he  sweeps  the  dim  regions, 
visits  worlds  which  flesh  cannot  enter:  he  saw 
the  souls  in  pain  ;  he  hears  the  doom  of  the 
judge  ;  he  beholds  the  penal  metempsychosis  ;  the 
Fates,  with  the  rock  and  shears ;  and  hears  the 
intoxicating  hum  of  their  spindle. 

But  his  circumspection  never  forsook  him.  One 
would  say,  he  had  read  the  inscription  on  the  gates 
of  Busyrane,  —  "  Be  bold ;  "  and  on  the  second 
gate,  —  "  Be  bold,  be  bold,  and  evermore  be  bold :  " 
and  then  again  had  paused  well  at  the  third  gate,  — 
6 


62  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

"Be  not  too  bold."  His  strength  is  like  the 
momentum  of  a  falling  planet ;  and  his  discretion, 
the  return  of  its  due  and  perfect  curve,  —  so  excel- 
lent is  his  Greek  love  of  boundary,  and  his  skill 
in  definition.  In  reading  logarithms,  one  is  not 
more  secure,  than  in  following  Plato  in  his  flights. 
Nothing  can  be  colder  than  his  head,  when  the 
lightnings  of  his  imagination  are  playing  in  the 
sky.  He  has  finished  his  thinking,  before  he 
brings  it  to  the  reader  ;  and  he  abounds  in  the 
surprises  of  a  literary  master.  He  has  that  opu- 
lence which  furnishes,  at  every  turn,  the  precise 
Aveapon  he  needs.  As  the  rich  man  wears  no 
more  garments,  drives  no  more  horses,  sits  in  no 
more  chambers,  than  the  poor,  —  but  has  that 
one  dress,  or  equipage,  or  instrument,  which  is  fit 
for  the  hour  and  the  need :  so  Plato,  in  his  plenty, 
is  never  restricted,  but  has  the  fit  word.  There 
is,  indeed,  no  weapon  in  all  the  armory  of  wit 
which  he  did  not  possess  and  use,  —  epic,  analysis, 
mania,  intuition,  music,  satire,  and  irony,  down 
to  the  customary  and  polite.  His  illustrations  are 
poetry,  and  his  jests  illustrations.  Socrates'  pro- 
fession of  obstetric  art  is  good  philosophy  ;  and  his 
finding  that  word  "  cookery,"  and  "  adulatory  art," 
for  rhetoric,  in  the  Gorgias,  does  us  a  substantial 
service  still.  No  orator  can  measure  in  effect  with 
him  who  can  give  good  nicknames. 


63 


What  moderation,  and  understatement,  and 
checking  his  thunder  in  mid  volley !  He  has 
good-naturedly  furnished  the  courtier  and  citizen 
with  all  that  can  be  said  against  the  schools. 
"  For  philosophy  is  an  elegant  thing,  if  any  one 
modestly  meddles  with  it ;  hut,  if  he  is  conver- 
sant with  it  more  than  is  becoming,  it  corrupts 
the  man."  He  could  well  afford  to  be  generous,  — 
he,  who  from  the  sunlike  centrality  and  reach  of 
his  vision,  had  a  faith  without  cloud.  Such  as  his 
perception,  was  his  speech  :  he  plays  with  the 
doubt,  and  makes  the  most  of  it  :  he  paints  and 
quibbles ;  and  by  and  by  comes  a  sentence  that 
moves  the  sea  and  land.  The  admirable  earnest 
comes  not  only  at  intervals,  in  the  perfect  yes 
and  no  of  the  dialogue,  but  in  bursts  of  light. 
"  I,  therefore,  Callicles,  am  persuaded  by  these 
accounts,  and  consider  how  I  may  exhibit  my 
soul  before  the  judge  in  a  healthy  condition. 
Wherefore,  disregarding  the  honors  that  most 
men  value,  and  looking  to  the  truth,  I  shall 
endeavor  in  reality  to  live  as  virtuously  as  I  can  ; 
and,  when  I  die,  to  die  so.  And  I  invite  all  other 
men,  to  the  utmost  of  my  power  j  and  you,  too,  I 
in  turn  invite  to  this  contest,  which,  I  affirm, 
surpasses  all  contests  here." 

He  is  a  great  average  man  ;  one  who,  to  the  best 
thinking,  adds  a  proportion  and  equality  in  his 


64  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

faculties,  so  that  men  see  in  him  their  own  dreams 
and  glimpses  made  available,  and  made  to  pass 
for  what  they  are.  A  great  common  sense  is  his 
warrant  and  qualification  to  be  the  world's  inter- 
preter. He  has  reason,  as  all  the  philosophic  and 
poetic  class  have :  but  he  has,  also,  what  they 
have  not,  —  this  strong  solving  sense  to  reconcile 
his  poetry  with  the  appearances  of  the  world, 
and  build  a  bridge  from  the  streets  of  cities  to 
the  Atlantis.  He  omits  never  this  graduation,  but 
slopes  his  thought,  however  picturesque  the  pre- 
cipice on  one  side,  to  an  access  from  the  plain. 
He  never  writes  in  ecstasy,  or  catches  us  up  into 
poetic  raptures. 

Plato  apprehended  the  cardinal  facts.  He  could 
prostrate  himself  on  the  earth,  and  cover  his 
eyes,  whilst  he  adored  that  which  cannot  be 
numbered,  or  guaged,  or  known,  or  named :  that 
of  which  every  thing  can  be  affirmed  and  denied : 
that  "  which  is  entity  and  nonentity."  He  called 
it  super-essential.  He  even  stood  ready,  as  in  the 
Parmenides,  to  demonstrate  that  it  was  so,  —  that 
this  Being  exceeded  the  limits  of  intellect.  No 
man  ever  more  fully  acknowledged  the  Ineffable. 
Having  paid  his  homage,  as  for  the  human  race, 
to  the  Illimitable,  he  then  stood  erect,  and  for  the 
human  race  affirmed,  l  And  yet  things  are  know- 


65 

able  !  '  —  that  is,  the  Asia  in  his  mind  was  first 
heartily  honored,  —  the  ocean  of  love  and  power, 
before  form,  before  will,  before  knowledge,  the 
Same,  the  Good,  the  One  ;  and  now,  refreshed  and 
empowered  by  this  worship,  the  instinct  of 
Europe,  namely,  culture,  returns ;  and  he  cries, 
Yet  things  are  knowable  !  They  are  knowable, 
because,  being  from  one,  things  correspond. 
There  is  a  scale  :  and  the  correspondence  of 
heaven  to  earth,  of  matter  to  mind,  of  the  part  to 
the  whole,  is  our  guide.  As  there  is  a  science 
of  stars,  called  astronomy  ;  a  science  of  quantities, 
called  mathematics  ;  a  science  of  qualities,  called 
chemistry ;  so  there  is  a  science  of  sciences,  —  I 
call  it  Dialectic,  — which  is  the  Intellect  discrim- 
inating the  false  and  the  true.  It  rests  on  the 
observation  of  identity  and  diversity  ;  for,  to  judge, 
is  to  unite  to  an  object  the  notion  which  belongs 
to  it.  The  sciences,  even  the  best,  —  mathematics, 
and  astronomy,  —  are  like  sportsmen,  who  seize 
whatever  prey  offers,  even  without  being  able  to 
make  any  use  of  it.  Dialectic  must  teach  the  use 
of  them.  "  This  is  of  that  rank  that  no  intel- 
lectual man  will  enter  on  any  study  for  its  own 
sake,  but  only  with  a  view  to  advance  himself  in 
that  one  sole  science  which  embraces  all." 

"  The  essence  or  peculiarity  of  man  is  to  com- 
prehend a  whole  ;  or  that  which,  in  the  diversity 
6* 


66  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

of  sensations,  can  be  comprised  under  a  rational 
unity."  "  The  soul  which  has  never  perceived 
the  truth,  cannot  pass  into  the  human  form."  I 
announce  to  men  the  Intellect.  I  announce  the 
good  of  being  interpenetrated  by  the  mind  that 
made  nature  :  this  benefit,  namely,  that  it  can 
understand  nature,  which  it  made  and  maketh. 
Nature  is  good,  but  intellect  is  better  :  as  the  law- 
giver is  before  the  law-receiver.  I  give  you  joy, 
O  sons  of  men  !  that  truth  is  altogether  whole- 
some ;  that  we  have  hope  to  search  out  what 
might  be  the  very  self  of  every  thing.  The 
misery  of  man  is  to  be  baulked  of  the  sight  of 
essence,  and  to  be  stuffed  with  conjectures  :  but 
the  supreme  good  is  reality ;  the  supreme  beauty 
is  reality ;  and  all  virtue  and  all  felicity  depend 
on  this  science  of  the  real  :  for  courage  is  nothing 
else  than  knowledge  :  the  fairest  fortune  that  can 
befall  man,  is  to  be  guided  by  his  daemon  to  that 
which  is  truly  his  own.  This  also  is  the  essence 
of  justice,  —  to  attend  every  one  his  own  :  nay,  the 
notion  of  virtue  is  not  to  be  arrived  at,  except 
through  direct  contemplation  of  the  divine  essence. 
Courage,  then !  for,  "  the  persuasion  that  we  must 
search  that  which  we  do  not  know,  will  render 
us,  beyond  comparison,  better,  braver,  and  more 
industrious,  than  if  we  thought  it  impossible  to 
discover  what  we  do  not  know,  and  useless  to 


67 

search  for  it."  He  secures  a  position  not  to  be 
commanded,  by  his  passion  for  reality  ;  valuing 
philosophy  only  as  it  is  the  pleasure  of  con- 
versing with  real  being. 

Thus,  full  of  the  genius  of  Europe,  he  said, 
Culture.  He  saw  the  institutions  of  Sparta,  and 
recognized  more  genially,  one  would  say,  than 
any  since,  the  hope  of  education.  He  delighted 
in  every  accomplishment,  in  every  graceful  and 
useful  and  truthful  performance  ;  above  all,  in  the 
splendors  of  genius  and  intellectual  achievement. 
"  The  whole  of  life,  O  Socrates,  said  Glauco,  is, 
with  the  wise,  the  measure  of  hearing  such  dis- 
courses as  these."  What  a  price  he  sets  on  the 
feats  of  talent,  on  the  powers  of  Pericles,  of 
Isocrates,  of  Parmenides !  What  price,  above 
price,  on  the  talents  themselves !  He  called  the 
several  faculties,  gods,  in  his  beautiful  personation. 
What  value  he  gives  to  the  art  of  gymnastic  in 
education ;  what  to  geometry ;  what  to  music  ; 
what  to  astronomy,  whose  appeasing  and  medi- 
cinal power  he  celebrates !  In  the  Timseus.  he 
indicates  the  highest  employment  of  the  eyes. 
"  By  us  it  is  asserted,  that  God  invented  and 
bestowed  sight  on  us  for  this  purpose,  —  that, 
on  surveying  the  circles  of  intelligence  in  the 
heavens,  we  might  properly  employ  those  of  our 
own  minds,  which,  though  disturbed  when  com- 


68  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

pared  with  the  others  that  are  uniform,  are 
still  allied  to  their  circulations ;  and  that,  having 
thus  learned,  and  being  naturally  possessed  of 
a  correct  reasoning  faculty,  we  might,  by  imi- 
tating the  uniform  revolutions  of  divinity,  set 
right  our  own  wanderings  and  blunders."  And 
in  the  Republic,  —  "  By  each  of  these  disci- 
plines, a  certain  organ  of  the  soul  is  both  purified 
and  reanimated,  which  is  blinded  and  buried  by 
studies  of  another  kind  ;  an  organ  better  worth 
saving  than  ten  thousand  eyes, '  since  truth  is 
perceived  by  this  alone." 

He  said,  Culture ;  but  he  first  admitted  its 
basis,  and  gave  immeasurably  the  first  place  to 
advantages  of  nature.  His  patrician  tastes  laid 
stress  on  the  distinctions  of  birth.  In  the  doc- 
trine of  the  organic  character  and  disposition  is 
the  origin  of  caste.  "  Such  as  were  fit  to  govern, 
into  their  composition  the  informing  Deity  min- 
gled gold :  into  the  military,  silver ;  iron  and 
brass  for  husbandmen  and  artificers."  The  East 
confirms  itself,  in  all  ages,  in  this  faith.  The 
Koran  is  explicit  on  this  point  of  caste.  "  Men 
have  their  metal,  as  of  gold  and  silver.  Those 
of  you  who  were  the  worthy  ones  in  the  state  of 
ignorance,  will  be  the  worthy  ones  in  the  state 
of  faith,  as  soon  as  you  embrace  it."  Plato  was 
not  less  firm.     "  Of  the  five  orders  of  things,  only 


PLATO  J    OR,   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  69 

four  can  be  taught  to  the  generality  of  men." 
In  the  Republic,  he  insists  on  the  temperaments 
of  the  youth,  as  first  of  the  first. 

A  happier  example  of  the  stress  laid  on  nature, 
is  in  the  dialogue  with  the  young  Theages,  who 
wishes  to  receive  lessons  from  Socrates.  Socrates 
declares  that,  if  some  have  grown  wise  by  asso- 
ciating with  him,  no  thanks  are  due  to  him  ;  but, 
simply,  whilst  they  were  with  him,  they  grew 
wise,  not  because  of  him  ;  he  pretends  not  to 
know  the  way  of  it.  "It  is  adverse  to  many, 
nor  can  those  be  benefited  by  associating  with 
me,  whom  the  Dsmon  opposes ;  so  that  it  is  not 
possible  for  me  to  live  with  these.  With  many, 
however,  he  does  not  prevent  me  from  convers- 
ing, who  yet  are  not  at  all  benefited  by  associating 
with  me.  Such,  O  Theages,  is  the  association 
with  me  ;  for,  if  it  pleases  the  God,  you  will  make 
great  and  rapid  proficiency :  you  will  not,  if  he 
does  not  please.  Judge  whether  it  is  not  safer  to 
be  instructed  by  some  one  of  those  who  have 
power  over  the  benefit  which  they  impart  to 
men,  than  by  me,  who  benefit  or  not,  just  as  it 
may  happen."  As  if  he  had  said,  *  I  have  no 
system.  I  cannot  be  answerable  for  you.  You 
will  be  what  you  must.  If  there  is  love  between 
us,  inconceivably  delicious  and  profitable  will  our 
intercourse  be  ;  if  not,  your  time  is  lost,  and  you 


70  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

will  only  annoy  me.  I  shall  seem  to  you  stupid, 
and  the  reputation  I  have,  false.  Quite  above  us, 
beyond  the  will  of  you  or  me,  is  this  secret  affinity 
or  repulsion  laid.  All  my  good  is  magnetic,  and 
I  educate,  not  by  lessons,  but  by  going  about  my 
business.' 

He  said,  Culture ;  he  said,  Nature  :  and  he 
failed  not  to  add,  '  There  is  also  the  divine. ' 
There  is  no  thought  in  any  mind,  but  it  quickly 
tends  to  convert  itself  into  a  power,  and  organizes 
a  huge  instrumentality  of  means.  Plato,  lover 
of  limits,  loved  the  illimitable,  saw  the  enlarge- 
ment and  nobility  which  come  from  truth  itself 
and  good  itself,  and  attempted,  as  if  on  the 
part  of  the  human  intellect,  once  for  all,  to  do  it 
adequate  homage,  —  homage  fit  for  the  immense 
soul  to  receive,  and  yet  homage  becoming  the 
intellect  to  render.  He  said,  then,  l  Our  faculties 
run  out  into  infinity,  and  return  to  us  thence. 
We  can  define  but  a  little  way ;  but  here  is  a  fact 
which  will  not  be  skipped,  and  which  to  shut  our 
eyes  upon  is  suicide.  All  things  are  in  a  scale ; 
and,  begin  where  we  will,  ascend  and  ascend. 
All  things  are  symbolical;  and  what  we  call 
results  are  beginnings.' 

A  key  to  the  method  and  completeness  of  Plato 
is  his  twice  bisected  line.  After  he  has  illustrated 
the  relation  between  the  absolute  good  and  true, 


PLATO  ,*    OR,   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  71 

and  the  forms  of  the  intelligible  world,  he  says  :  — 
u  Let  there  be  a  line  cut  in  two  unequal  parts. 
Cut  again  each  of  these  two  parts,  —  one  represent- 
ing the  visible,  the  other  the  intelligible  world,  — 
and  these  two  new  sections,  representing  the  bright 
part  and  the  dark  part  of  these  worlds,  you  will 
have,  for  one  of  the  sections  of  the  visible  world,  — 
images,  that  is,  both  shadows  and  reflections ;  for 
the  other  section,  the  objects  of  these  images,  — 
that  is,  plants,  animals,  and  the  works  of  art  and 
nature.  Then  divide  the  intelligible  world  in 
like  manner ;  the  one  section  will  be  of  opinions 
and  hypotheses,  and  the  other  section,  of  truths." 
To  these  four  sections,  the  four  operations  of  the 
soul  correspond,  —  conjecture,  faith,  understand- 
ing, reason.  As  every  pool  reflects  the  image  of 
the  sun,  so  every  thought  and  thing  restores  us 
an  image  and  creature  of  the  supreme  Good. 
The  universe  is  perforated  by  a  million  channels 
for  his  activity.     All  things  mount  and  mount. 

All  his  thought  has  this  ascension  j  in  Phaedrus, 
teaching  that  beauty  is  the  most  lovely  of  all 
things,  exciting  hilarity,  and  shedding  desire  and 
confidence  through  the  universe,  wherever  it  en- 
ters ;  and  it  enters,  in  some  degree,  into  all  things  : 
but  that  there  is  another,  which  is  as  much  more 
beautiful  than  beauty,  as  beauty  is  than  chaos; 
namely,  wisdom,  which  our  wonderful  organ  of 


72  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN, 

sight  cannot  reach  unto,  but  which,  could  it  be  seen, 
would  ravish  us  with  its  perfect  reality."  He  has 
the  same  regard  to  it  as  the  source  of  excellence  in 
works  of  art.  "  When  an  artificer,  in  the  fabri- 
cation of  any  work,  looks  to  that  which  always 
subsists  according  to  the  same  ;  and,  employing  a 
model  of  this  kind,  expresses  its  idea  and  power 
in  his  work ;  it  must  follow,  that  his  production 
should  be  beautiful.  But  when  he  beholds  that 
which  is  born  and  dies,  it  will  be  far  from  beau- 
tiful." 

Thus  ever :  the  Banquet  is  a  teaching  in  the 
same  spirit,  familiar  now  to  all  the  poetry,  and  to 
all  the  sermons  of  the  world,  that  the  love  of 
trie  sexes  is  initial ;  and  symbolizes,  at  a  distance, 
the  passion  of  the  soul  for  that  immense  lake  of 
beauty  it  exists  to  seek.  This  faith  in  the  Divin- 
ity is  never  out  of  miud,  and  constitutes  the  lim- 
itation of  all  his  dogmas.  Body  cannot  teach 
wisdom ;  —  God  only.  In  the  same  mind,  he 
constantly  affirms  that  virtue  cannot  be  taught  j 
that  it  is  not  a  science,  but  an  inspiration  ;  that 
the  greatest  goods  are  produced  to  us  through 
mania,  and  are  assigned  to  us  by  a  divine  gift. 

This  leads  me  to  that  central  figure,  which  he 
has  established  in  his  Academy,  as  the  organ 
through  which  every  considered  opinion  shall  be 
announced,  and  whose  biography  he  has  likewise 


PLATO  ;    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  73 

so  labored,  that  the  historic  facts  are  lost  in  the 
light  of  Plato's  mind.  Socrates  and  Plato  are  the 
double  star,  which  the  most  powerful  instruments 
will  not  entirely  separate.  Socrates,  again,  in  his 
traits  and  genius,  is  the  best  example  of  that 
synthesis  which  constitutes  Plato's  extraordinary 
power.  Socrates,  a  man  of  humble  stem,  but 
honest  enough ;  of  the  commonest  history ;  of  a 
personal  homeliness  so  remarkable,  as  to  be  a 
cause  of  wit  in  others,  —  the  rather  that  his  broad 
good  nature  and  exquisite  taste  for  a  joke  invited 
the  sally,  which  was  sure  to  be  paid.  The  play- 
ers personated  him  on  the  stage ;  the  potters  copied 
his  ugly  face  on  their  stone  jugs.  He  was  a  cool 
fellow,  adding  to  his  humor  a  perfect  temper,  and 
a  knowledge  of  his  man,  be  he  who  he  might 
whom  he  talked  with,  which  laid  the  companion 
open  to  certain  defeat  in  any  debate,  —  and  in 
debate  he  immoderately  delighted.  The  young 
men  are  prodigiously  fond  of  him,  and  invite  him 
to  their  feasts,  whither  he  goes  for  conversation. 
He  can  drink,  too  ;  has  the  strongest  head  in 
Athens ;  and,  after  leaving  the  whole  party  under 
the  table,  goes  away,  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
to  begin  new  dialogues  with  somebody  that  is 
sober.  In  short,  he  was  what  our  country- 
people  call  an  old  one. 

He  affected  a  good  many  citizen-like  tastes,  was 
7 


74  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

monstrously  fond  of  Athens,  hated  trees,  never 
willingly  went  beyond  the  walls,  knew  the  old 
characters,  valued  the  bores  and  philistines, 
thought  every  thing  in  Athens  a  little  better  than 
any  thing  in  any  other  place.  He  was  plain  as  a 
Quaker  in  habit  and  speech,  affected  low  phrases, 
and  illustrations  from  cocks  and  quails,  soup-pans 
and  sycamore-spoons,  grooms  and  farriers,  and 
unnameable  offices,  —  especially  if  he  talked 
with  any  superfine  person.  He  had  a  Franklin- 
like wisdom.  Thus,  he  showed  one  who  was 
afraid  to  go  on  foot  to  Olympia,  that  it  was  no 
more  than  his  daily  walk  within  doors,  if  contin- 
uously extended,  would  easily  reach. 

Plain  old  uncle  as  he  was,  with  his  great  ears,  — 
an  immense  talker,  —  the  rumor  ran,  that,  on  one 
or  two  occasions,  in  the  war  with  Bceotia,  he  had 
shown  a  determination  which  had  covered  the 
retreat  of  a  troop  ;  and  there  was  some  story 
that,  under  cover  of  folly,  he  had,  in  the  city  gov- 
ernment, when  one  day  he  chanced  to  hold  a  seat 
there,  evinced  a  courage  in  opposing  singly  the 
popular  voice,  which  had  well-nigh  ruined  him. 
He  is  very  poor ;  but  then  he  is  hardy  as  a  soldier, 
and  can  live  on  a  few  olives  ;  usually,  in  the 
strictest  sense,  on  bread  and  water,  except  when 
entertained  by  his  friends.  His  necessary  ex- 
penses were  exceedingly  small,  and  no  one  could 


PLATO  J    OR,    THE    PHILOSOPHER.  75 

live  as  ho  did.  He  wore  no  under  garment ;  his 
upper  garment  was  the  same  for  summer  and  win- 
ter ;  and  he  went  barefooted ;  and  it  is  said  that, 
to  procure  the  pleasure,  which  he  loves,  of  talking 
at  his  ease  all  day  with  the  most  elegant  and  cul- 
tivated young  men,  he  will  now  and  then  return 
to  his  shop,  and  carve  statues,  good  or  bad,  for 
sale.  However  that  be,  it  is  certain  that  he  had 
grown  to  delight  in  nothing  else  than  this  conver- 
sation ;  and  that,  under  his  hypocritical  pretence 
of  knowing  nothing,  he  attacks  and  brings  down 
all  the  line  speakers,  all  the  fine  philosophers  of 
Athens,  whether  natives,  or  strangers  from  Asia 
Minor  and  the  islands.  Nobody  can  refuse  to  talk 
with  him,  he  is  so  honest,  and  really  curious  to 
know ;  a  man  who  was  willingly  confuted,  if  he 
did  not  speak  the  truth,  and  who  willingly  con- 
futed others,  asserting  what  was  false  ;  and  not  less 
pleased  when  confuted  than  when  confuting  ;  for 
he  thought  not  any  evil  happened  to  men,  of  such 
a  magnitude  as  false  opinion  respecting  the  just 
and  unjust.  A  pitiless  disputant,  who  knows 
nothing,  but  the  bounds  of  whose  conquering 
intelligence  no  man  had  ever  reached  ;  whose 
temper  was  imperturbable ;  whose  dreadful  logic 
was  always  leisurely  and  sportive  ;  so  careless  and 
ignorant,  as  to  disarm  the  wariest,  and  draw  them, 
in  the  pleasantest   manner,  into  horrible  doubts 


76  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  confusion.  But  he  always  knew  the  way 
out ;  knew  it,  yet  would  not  tell  it.  No  escape  ; 
he  drives  them  to  terrible  crtoices  by  his  dilem- 
mas, and  tosses  the  Hippiases  and  Gorgiases,  with 
their  grand  reputations,  as  a  boy  tosses  his  balls. 
The  tyrannous  realist  !  —  Meno  has  discoursed 
a  thousand  times,  at  length,  on  virtue,  before 
many  companies,  and  very  well,  as  it  appeared  to 
him;  but,  at  this  moment,  he  caimot  even  tell 
what  it  is,  —  this  cramp-fish  of  a  Socrates  has 
so  bewitched  him. 

This  hard-headed  humorist,  whose  strange  con- 
ceits, drollery,  and  bonhommie,  diverted  the  young 
patricians,  whilst  the  rumor  of  his  sayings  and 
quibbles  gets  abroad  every  day,  turns  out,  in  the 
sequel,  to  have  a  probity  as  invincible  as  his  logic, 
and  to  be  either  insane,  or,  at  least,  under  cover 
of  this  play,  enthusiastic  in  his  religion.  When 
accused  before  the  judges  of  subverting  the  popu- 
lar creed,  he  affirms  the  immortality  of  the  soul, 
the  future  reward  and  punishment ;  and,  refusing 
to  recant,  in  a  caprice  of  the  popular  government, 
was  condemned  to  die,  and  sent  to  the  prison. 
Socrates  entered  the  prison,  and  took  away  all 
ignominy  from  the  place,  which  could  not  be  a 
prison,  whilst  he  was  there.  Crito  bribed  the 
jailer  j  but  Socrates  would  not  go  out  by  treach- 
ery.    "  Whatever  inconvenience  ensue,  nothing  is 


to  be  preferred  before  justice.  These  things  I 
hear  like  pipes  and  drums,  whose  sound  makes 
me  deaf  to  every  thing  you  say."  The  fame  of 
this  prison,  the  fame  of  the  discourses  there,  and 
the  drinking  of  the  hemlock,  are  one  of  the  most 
precious  passages  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

The  rare  coincidence,  in  one  ugly  body,  of  the 
droll  and  the  martyr,  the  keen  street  and  market 
debater  with  the  sweetest  saint  known  to  any 
history  at  that  time,  had  forcibly  struck  the  mind 
of  Plato,  so  capacious  of  these  contrasts  ;  and 
the  figure  of  Socrates,  by  a  necessity,  placed 
itself  in  the  foreground  of  the  scene,  as  the  fittest 
dispenser  of  the  intellectual  treasures  he  had  to 
communicate.  It  was  a  rare  fortune,  that  this 
iEsop  of  the  mob,  and  this  robed  scholar,  should 
meet,  to  make  each  other  immortal  in  their 
mutual  faculty.  The  strange  synthesis,  in  the 
character  of  Socrates,  capped  the  synthesis  in  the 
mind  of  Plato.  Moreover,  by  this  means,  he  was 
able,  in  the  direct  way,  and  without  envy,  to  avail 
himself  of  the  wit  and  weight  of  Socrates,  to 
which  unquestionably  his  own  debt  was  great  ; 
and  these  derived  again  their  principal  advantage 
from  the  perfect  art  of  Plato. 

It  remains  to  say,  that  the  defect  of  Plato  in 
power  is  only  that  which  results  inevitably  from 

his  quality.     He  is  intellectual  in  his  aim ;  and, 

7# 


78  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

therefore,  in  expression,  literary.  Mounting  into 
heaven,  diving  into  the  pit,  expounding  the  laws 
of  the  state,  the  passion  of  love,  the  remorse  of 
crime,  the  hope  of  the  parting  soul,  —  he  is  literary, 
and  never  otherwise.  It  is  almost  the  sole  de- 
duction from  the  merit  of  Plato,  that  his  writings 
have  not,  —  what  is,  no  doubt,  incident  to  this 
regnancy  of  intellect  in  his  work,  —  the  vital 
authority  which  the  screams  of  prophets  and  the 
sermons  of  unlettered  Arabs  and  Jews  possess. 
There  is  an  interval ;  and  to  cohesion,  contact  is 
necessary. 

I  know  not  what  can  be  said  in  reply  to  this 
criticism,  but  that  we  have  come  to  a  fact  in  the 
nature  of  things  :  an  oak  is  not  an  orange.  The 
qualities  of  sugar  remain  with  sugar,  and  those 
of  salt,  with  salt. 

In  the  second  place,  he  has  not  a  system.  The 
dearest  defenders  and  disciples  are  at  fault.  He 
attempted  a  theory  of  the  universe,  and  his  theory 
is  not  complete  or  self-evident.  One  man  thinks 
he  means  this ;  and  another,  that :  he  has  said 
one  thing  in  one  place,  and  the  reverse  of  it  in 
another  place.  He  is  charged  with  having  failed 
to  make  the  transition  from  ideas  to  matter. 
Here  is  the  world,  sound  as  a  nut,  perfect,  not 
the  smallest  piece  of  chaos  left,  never  a  stitch 
nor  an  end,  not  a  mark  of  haste,  or  botching,  or 


PLATO  J    OR,   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  79 

second  thought ;  but  the  theory  of  the  world  is  a 
thing  of  shreds  and  patches. 

The  longest  wave  is  quickly  lost  in  the  sea. 
Plato  would  willingly  have  a  Platonism,  a  known 
and  accurate  expression  for  the  world,  and  it 
should  be  accurate.  It  shall  be  the  world  passed 
through  the  mind  of  Plato,  —  nothing  less.  Every 
atom  shall  have  the  Platonic  tinge ;  every  atom, 
every  relation  or  quality  you  knew  before,  you 
shall  know  again,  and  find  here,  but  now  ordered ; 
not  nature,  but  art.  And  you  shall  feel  that 
Alexander  indeed  overran,  with  men  and  horses, 
some  countries  of  the  planet ;  but  countries,  and 
things  of  which  countries  are  made,  elements, 
planet  itself,  laws  of  planet  and  of  men,  have 
passed  through  this  man  as  bread  into  his  body, 
and  become  no  longer  bread,  but  body  :  so  all 
this  mammoth  morsel  has  become  Plato.  He  has 
clapped  copyright  on  the  world.  This  is  the 
ambition  of  individualism.  But  the  mouthful 
proves  too  large.  Boa  constrictor  has  good  will 
to  eat  it,  but  he  is  foiled.  He  falls  abroad  in  the 
attempt ;  and  biting,  gets  strangled :  the  bitten 
world  holds  the  biter  fast  by  his  own  teeth. 
There  he  perishes  :  unconquered  nature  lives  on, 
and  forgets  him.  So  it  fares  with  all :  so  must  it 
fare  with  Plato.  In  view  of  eternal  nature,  Plato 
turns  out  to  be  philosophical  exercitations.     He 


REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 


argues  on  this  side,  and  on  that.  The  aeutest 
German,  the  lovingest  disciple,  could  never  tell 
what  Platonism  was j  indeed,  admirable  texts 
can  be  quoted  on  both  sides  of  every  great 
question  from  him. 

These  things  we  are  forced  to  say,  if  we  must 
consider  the  effort  of  Plato,  or  of  any  philosopher, 
to  dispose  of  Nature,  —  which  will  not  be  dis- 
posed of.  No  power  of  genius  has  ever  yet  had 
the  smallest  success  in  explaining  existence. 
The  perfect  enigma  remains.  But  there  is  an 
injustice  in  assuming  this  ambition  for  Plato. 
Let  us  not  seem  to  treat  with  flippancy  his  ven- 
erable name.  Men,  in  proportion  to  their  intellect, 
have  admitted  his  transcendant  claims.  The 
way  to  know  him,  is  to  compare  him,  not  with 
nature,  but  with  other  men.  How  many  ages 
have  gone  by,  and  he  remains  unapproached  !  A 
chief  structure  of  human  wit,  like  Karnac,  or  the 
mediaeval  cathedrals,  or  the  Etrurian  remains,  it 
requires  all  the  breadth  of  human  faculty  to  know 
it.  I  think  it  is  trueliest  seen,  when  seen  with  the 
most  respect.  His  sense  deepens,  his  merits 
multiply,  with  study.  When  Ave  say,  here  is  a 
fine  collection  of  fables  ;  or,  when  we  praise  the 
style  ;  or  the  common  sense  ;  or  arithmetic  ;  we 
speak  as  boys,  and  much  of  our  impatient  crit- 
icism   of  the  dialectic,  I  suspect,   is   no  better. 


PLATO  J    OR,   THE    PHILOSOPHER.  81 

The  criticism  is  like  our  impatience  of  miles, 
when  we  are  in  a  hurry ;  but  it  is  still  best  that 
a  mile  should  have  seventeen  hundred  and  sixty- 
yards.  The  great-eyed  Plato  proportioned  the 
lights  and  shades  after  the  genius  of  our  life. 


PLATO:   NEW  READINGS 


The  publication,  in  Mr.  Bonn's  "  Serial  Libra- 
ry," of  the  excellent  translations  of  Plato,  which 
we  esteem  one  of  the  chief  benefits  the  cheap 
press  has  yielded,  gives  us  an  occasion  to  take 
hastily  a  few  more  notes  of  the  elevation  and 
bearings  of  this  fixed  star ;  or,  to  add  a  bulletin, 
like  the  journals,  of  Plato  at  the  latest  dates. 

Modern  science,  by  the  extent  of  its  generaliza- 
tion, has  learned  to  indemnify  the  student  of  man 
for  the  defects  of  individuals,  by  tracing  growth 
and  ascent  in  races ;  and,  by  the  simple  expedient 
of  lighting  up  the  vast  background,  generates  a 
feeling  of  complacency  and  hope.  The  human 
being  has  the  saurian  and  the  plant  in  his  rear. 
His  arts  and  sciences,  the  easy  issue  of  his  brain, 
look  glorious  when  prospectively  beheld  from  the 
distant  brain  of  ox,  crocodile,  and  fish.  It  seems 
as  if  nature,  in  regarding  the  geologic  night  be- 
hind her,  when,  in  five  or  six  millenniums,  she 


PLATO  :    NEW    READINGS.  83 

had  turned  out  five  or  six  men,  as  Homer.  Phidias, 
Menu,  and  Columbus,  was  no  wise  discontented 
with  the  result.  These  samples  attested  the  virtue 
of  the  tree.  These  were  a  clear  amelioration  of 
trilobite  and  saurus,  and  a  good  basis  for  further 
proceeding.  With  this  artist,  time  and  space  are 
cheap,  and  she  is  insensible  to  what  you  say  of 
tedious  preparation.  She  waited  tranquilly  the 
flowing  periods  of  paleontology,  for  the  hour  to  be 
struck  when  man  should  arrive.  Then  periods 
must  pass  before  the  motion  of  the  earth  can  be 
suspected ;  then  before  the  map  of  the  instincts 
and  the  cultivable  powers  can  be  drawn.  But  as 
of  races,  so  the  succession  of  individual  men  is 
fatal  and  beautiful,  and  Plato  has  the  fortune,  in 
the  history  of  mankind,  to  mark  an  epoch. 

Plato's  fame  does  not  stand  on  a  syllogism,  or 
on  any  masterpieces  of  the  Socratic  reasoning,  or 
on  any  thesis,  as,  for  example,  the  immortality  of 
the  soul.  He  is  more  than  an  expert,  or  a  school- 
man, or  a  geometer,  or  the  prophet  of  a  peculiar 
message.  He  represents  the  privilege  of  the  in- 
tellect, the  power,  namely,  of  carrying  up  every 
fact  to  successive  platforms,  and  so  disclosing,  in 
every  fact,  a  germ  of  expansion.  These  expan- 
sions are  in  the  essence  of  thought.  The  natu- 
ralist would  never  help  us  to  them  by  any  discov- 
eries of  the  extent  of  the  universe,  but  is  as  poor, 


84  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

when  cataloguing  the  resolved  nebula  of  Orion, 
as  when  measuring  the  angles  of  an  acre.  But 
the  Republic  of  Plato,  by  these  expansions, 
may  be  said  to  require,  and  so  to  anticipate,  the 
astronomy  of  Laplace.  The  expansions  are  or- 
ganic. The  mind  does  not  create  what  it  per- 
ceives, any  more  than  the  eye  creates  the  rose. 
In  ascribing  to  Plato  the  merit  of  announcing 
them,  we  only  say,  here  was  a  more  complete 
man,  who  could  apply  to  nature  the  whole  scale 
of  the  senses,  the  understanding,  and  the  reason. 
These  expansions,  or  extensions,  consist  in  contin- 
uing the  spiritual  sight  where  the  horizon  falls  on 
our  natural  vision,  and,  by  this  second  sight,  dis- 
covering the  long  lines  of  law  which  shoot  in 
every  direction.  Everywhere  he  stands  on  a 
path  which  has  no  end,  but  runs  continuously 
round  the  universe.  Therefore,  every  word  be- 
comes an  exponent  of  nature.  Whatever  he  looks 
upon  discloses  a  second  sense,  and  ulterior  senses. 
His  perception  of  the  generation  of  contraries,  of 
death  out  of  life,  and  life  out  of  death,  — that  law 
by  which,  in  nature,  decomposition  is  recomposi- 
tion,  and  putrefaction  and  cholera  are  only  signals 
of  a  new  creation  ;  his  discernment  of  the  little  in 
the  large,  and  the  large  in  the  small ;  studying  the 
state  in  the  citizen,  and  the  citizen  in  the  state  ; 
and  leaving  it  doubtful  whether  he  exhibited  the 


PLATO  :    NEW   READINGS.  85 

Republic  as  an  allegory  on  the  education  of  the  pri- 
vate soul ;  his  beautiful  definitions  of  ideas,  of  time, 
of  form,  of  figure,  of  the  line,  sometimes  hypotheti- 
cally  given,  as  his  defining  of  virtue,  courage, 
justice,  temperance  ;  his  love  of  the  apologue,  and 
his  apologues  themselves  ;  the  cave  of  Tropho- 
nius  j  the  ring  of  Gyges  j  the  charioteer  and  two 
horses  ;  the  golden,  silver,  brass,  and  iron  temper- 
aments ;  Theuth  and  Thamus ;  and  the  visions 
of  Hades  and  the  Fates,  — ■  fables  which  have  im- 
printed themselves  in  the  human  memory  like  the 
signs  of  the  zodiac  j  his  soliform  eye  and  his  bo- 
niform  soul ;  his  doctrine  of  assimilation  ;  his  doc- 
trine of  reminiscence  ;  his  clear  vision  of  the  laws 
of  return,  or  reaction,  which  secure  instant  justice 
throughout  the  universe,  instanced  every  where, 
but  specially  in  the  doctrine,  "  what  comes  from 
God  to  us,  returns  from  us  to  God,"  and  in  Soc- 
rates' belief  that  the  laws  below  are  sisters  of  the 
laws  above. 

More  striking  examples  are  his  moral  conclu- 
sions. Plato  affirms  the  coincidence  of  science 
and  virtue  ;  for  vice  can  never  know  itself  and 
virtue  ;  but  virtue  knows  both  itself  and  vice. 
The  eye  attested  that  justice  was  best,  as  long  as 
it  was  profitable  ;  Plato  affirms  that  it  is  profitable 
throughout ;  that  the  profit  is  intrinsic,  though  the 
just  conceal  his  justice  from  gods  and  men  j  that 
8 


86  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

it  is  better  to  suffer  injustice,  than  to  do  it ;  that 
the  sinner  ought  to  covet  punishment ;  that  the 
lie  was  more  hurtful  than  homicide  ;  and  that  ig- 
norance, or  the  involuntary  lie,  was  more  calami- 
tous than  involuntary  homicide  ;  that  the  soul  is 
unwillingly  deprived  of  true  opinions ;  and  that 
no  man  sins  willingly  ;  that  the  order  or  proceed- 
ing of  nature  was  from  the  mind  to  the  body  ; 
and,  though  a  sound  body  cannot  restore  an  un- 
sound mind,  yet  a  good  soul  can,  by  its  virtue, 
render  the  body  the  best  possible.  The  intelligent 
have  a  right  over  the  ignorant,  namely,  the  right 
of  instructing  them.  The  right  punishment  of 
one  out  of  tune,  is  to  make  him  play  in  tune  ;  the 
fine  which  the  good,  refusing  to  govern,  ought  to 
pay,  is,  to  be  governed  by  a  worse  man  ;  that  his 
guards  shall  not  handle  gold  and  silver,  but  shall 
be  instructed  that  there  is  gold  and  silver  in  their 
souls,  which  will  make  men  willing  to  give  them 
every  thing  which  they  need. 

This  second  sight  explains  the  stress  laid  on 
geometry.  He  saw  that  the  globe  of  earth  was 
not  more  lawful  and  precise  than  was  the  super- 
sensible ;  that  a  celestial  geometry  was  in  place 
there,  as  a  logic  of  lines  and  angles  here  below  ; 
that  the  world  was  throughout  mathematical  j  the 
proportions  are  constant  of  oxygen,  azote,  and 
lime  j  there  is  just  so  much  water,  and  slate,  and 


PLATO  I    NEW    READINGS.  87 

magnesia ;  not  less  are  the  proportions  constant  of 
the  moral  elements. 

This  eldest  Goethe,  hating  varnish  and  false- 
hood, delighted  in  revealing  the  real  at  the  base 
of  the  accidental  j  in  discovering  connection,  con- 
tinuity, and  representation,  everywhere ;  hating 
insulation  ;  and  appears  like  the  god  of  wealth 
among  the  cabins  of  vagabonds,  opening  power 
and  capability  in  every  thing  he  touches.  Ethical 
science  was  new  and  vacant,  when  Plato  could 
write  thus  :  —  "  Of  all  whose  arguments  are  left  to 
the  men  of  the  present  time,  no  one  has  ever  yet 
condemned  injustice,  or  praised  justice,  otherwise 
than  as  respects  the  repute,  honors,  and  emolu- 
ments arising  therefrom  ;  while,  as  respects  either 
of  them  in  itself,  and  subsisting  by  its  own  power 
in  the  soul  of  the  possessor,  and  concealed  both 
from  gods  and  men,  no  one  has  yet  sufficiently 
investigated,  either  in  poetry  or  prose  writings,  — 
how,  namely,  that  the  one  is  the  greatest  of  all 
the  evils  that  the  soul  has  within  it,  and  justice 
the  greatest  good." 

His  definition  of  ideas,  as  what  is  simple, 
permanent,  uniform,  and  self-existent,  forever 
discriminating  them  from  the  notions  of  the 
understanding,  marks  an  era  in  the  world.  He 
was  born  to  behold  the  self-evolving  power  of 
spirit,  endless  generator  of  new  ends ;  a  power 


88 


REPRESENTATIVE   MEN. 


which  is  the  key  at  once  to  the  centrality  and 
the  evanescence  of  things.  Plato  is  so  centred, 
that  he  can  well  spare  all  his  dogmas.  Thus  the 
fact  of  knowledge  and  ideas  reveals  to  him  the 
fact  of  eternity  j  and  the  doctrine  of  reminiscence 
he  offers  as  the  most  probable  particular  explica- 
tion. Call  that  fanciful,  —  it  matters  not :  the 
connection  between  our  knowledge  and  the  abyss 
of  being  is  still  real,  and  the  explication  must  be 
not  less  magnificent. 

He  has  indicated  every  eminent  point  in  spec- 
ulation. He  wrote  on  the  scale  of  the  mind 
itself,  so  that  all  things  have  symmetry  in  his 
tablet.  He  put  in  all  the  past,  without  weariness, 
and  descended  into  detail  with  a  courage  like 
that  he  witnessed  in  nature.  One  would  say, 
that  his  forerunners  had  mapped  out  each  a  farm, 
or  a  district,  or  an  island,  in  intellectual  geography, 
but  that  Plato  first  drew  the  sphere.  He  domes- 
ticates the  soul  in  nature  :  man  is  the  microcosm. 
All  the  circles  of  the  visible  heaven  represent  as 
many  circles  in  the  rational  soul.  There  is  no 
lawless  particle,  and  there  is  nothing  casual  in 
the  action  of  the  human  mind.  The  names  of 
things,  too,  are  fatal,  following  the  nature  of 
things.  All  the  gods  of  the  Pantheon  are,  by 
their  names,  significant  of  a  profound  sense. 
The  gods  are  the  ideas.     Pan  is  speech,  or  man- 


PLATO  :    NEW    READINGS.  89 

ifestation ;  Saturn,  the  contemplative  ;  Jove,  the 
regal  soul ;  and  Mars,  passion.  Venus  is  propor- 
tion ;  Calliope,  the  soul  of  the  world  ;  Aglaia, 
intellectual  illustration. 

These  thoughts,  in  sparkles  of  light,  had  ap- 
peared often  to  pious  and  to  poetic  souls ;  but  this 
well-bred,  all-knowing  Greek  geometer  comes 
with  command,  gathers  them  all  up  into  rank 
and  gradation,  the  Euclid  of  holiness,  and  marries 
the  two  parts  of  nature.  Before  all  men,  he  saw 
the  intellectual  values  of  the  moral  sentiment. 
He  describes  his  own  ideal,  when  he  paints  in 
Timaeus  a  god  leading  things  from  disorder  into 
order.  He  kindled  a  fire  so  truly  in  the  centre, 
that  we  see  the  sphere  illuminated,  and  can 
distinguish  poles,  equator,  and  lines  of  latitude, 
every  arc  and  node  :  a  theory  so  averaged,  so 
modulated,  that  you  would  say,  the  winds  of 
ages  had  swept  through  this  rhythmic  structure, 
and  not  that  it  was  the  brief  extempore  blotting 
of  one  short-lived  scribe.  Hence  it  has  happened 
that  a  very  well-marked  class  of  souls,  namely, 
those  who  delight  in  giving  a  spiritual,  that  is,  an 
ethico-intellectual  expression  to  every  truth,  by 
exhibiting  an  ulterior  end  which  is  yet  legitimate 
to  it,  are  said  to  Platonise.  Thus,  Michel  Angelo 
is  a  Platonist,  in  his  sonnets.  Shakspeare  is  a 
8* 


90 


REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 


Platonist,  when  he  writes,  "  Nature  is  made  better 
by  no  mean,  but  nature  makes  that  mean,"  or, 

"  He,  that  can  endure 
To  follow  with  allegiance  a  fallen  lord, 
Does  conquer  him  that  did  his  master  conquer, 
And  earns  a  place  in  the  story." 

Hamlet  is  a  pure  Platonist,  and  'tis  the  magnitude 
only  of  Shakspeare's  proper  genius  that  hinders 
him  from  being  classed  as  the  most  eminent  of 
this  school.  Swedenborg,  throughout  his  prose 
poem  of  "  Conjugal  Love,"  is  a  Platonist. 

His  subtlety  commended  him  to  men  of 
thought.  The  secret  of  his  popular  success  is  the 
moral  aim,  which  endeared  him  to  mankind. 
"Intellect,"  he  said,  "is  king  of  heaven  and  of 
earth  ;  "  but,  in  Plato,  intellect  is  always  moral. 
His  writings  have  also  the  sempiternal  youth  of 
poetry.  For  their  arguments,  most  of  them, 
might  have  been  couched  in  sonnets  :  and  poetry 
has  never  soared  higher  than  in  the  Timaeus  and 
the  Phasdrus.  As  the  poet,  too,  he  is  only  con- 
templative. He  did  not,  like  Pythagoras,  break 
himself  with  an  institution.  All  his  painting  in 
the  Republic  must  be  esteemed  mythical,  with 
intent  to  bring  out,  sometimes  in  violent  colors, 
his  thought.  You  cannot  institute,  without  peril 
of  charlatan. 

It  was  a  high  scheme,  his  absolute  privilege 


PLATO  .*    NEW    READINGS.  91 

for  the  best,  (which,  to  make  emphatic,  he  ex- 
pressed by  community  of  women,)  as  the  premium 
which  he  would  set  on  grandeur.  There  shall 
be  exempts  of  two  kinds :  first,  those  who  by 
demerit  have  put  themselves  below  protection,  — 
outlaws ;  and  secondly,  those  who  by  eminence 
of  nature  and  desert  are  out  of  the  reach  of  your 
rewards  :  let  such  be  free  of  the  city,  and  above 
the  law.  We  confide  them  to  themselves  ;  let 
them  do  with  us  as  they  will.  Let  none  presume 
to  measure  the  irregularities  of  Michel  Angelo 
and  Socrates  by  village  scales. 

In  his  eighth  book  of  the  Republic,  he  throws  a 
little  mathematical  dust  in  our  eyes.  I  am  sorry 
to  see  him,  after  such  noble  superiorities,  permit- 
ting the  lie  to  governors.  Plato  plays  Providence 
a  little  with  the  baser  sort,  as  people  allow  them- 
selves with  their  dogs  and  cats. 


SWEDENBORG; 


THE  MYSTIC 


III. 

SWEDENBORG;   OR,   THE   MYSTIC 


Among  eminent  persons,  those  who  are  most 
dear  to  men  are  not  of  the  class  which  the  econ- 
omist calls  producers  :  they  have  nothing  in  their 
hands  ;  they  have  not  cultivated  corn,  nor  made 
bread ;  they  have  not  led  out  a  colony,  nor 
invented  a  loom.  A  higher  class,  in  the  estima- 
tion and  love  of  this  city-building,  market-going 
race  of  mankind,  are  the  poets,  who,  from  the 
intellectual  kingdom,  feed  the  thought  and  imagi- 
nation with  ideas  and  pictures  which  raise  men 
out  of  the  world  of  corn  and  money,  and  console 
them  for  the  short-comings  of  the  day,  and  the 
meannesses  of  labor  and  traffic.  Then,  also, 
the  philosopher  has  his  value,  who  flatters  the 
intellect  of  this  laborer,  by  engaging  him  with 
subtleties  which  instruct  him  in  new  faculties. 
Others  may  build  cities ;  he  is  to  understand 
them,  and  keep  them  in  awe.     But  there  is  a 


96  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

class  who  lead  us  into  another  region,  — the  world 
of  morals,  or  of  will.  What  is  singular  about 
this  region  of  thought,  is,  its  claim.  Wherever 
the  sentiment  of  right  comes  in,  it  takes  pre- 
cedence of  every  thing  else.  For  other  things,  I 
make  poetry  of  them  ;  but  the  moral  sentiment 
makes  poetry  of  me. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that  he  would  render 
the  greatest  service  to  modern  criticism,  who  shall 
draw  the  line  of  relation  that  subsists  between 
Shakspeare  and  Swedenborg.  The  human  mind 
stands  ever  in  perplexity,  demanding  intellect, 
demanding  sanctity,  impatient  equally  of  each 
without  the  other.  The  reconciler  has  not  yet 
appeared.  If  we  tire  of  the  saints,  Shakspeare 
is  our  city  of  refuge.  Yet  the  instincts  presently 
teach,  that  the  problem  of  essence  must  take  pre- 
cedence of  all  others,  —  the  questions  of  Whence  ? 
What  ?  and  Whither  ?  and  the  solution  of  these 
must  be  in  a  life,  and  not  in  a  book.  A  drama 
or  poem  is  a  proximate  or  oblique  reply ;  but 
Moses,  Menu,  Jesus,  work  directly  on  this  prob- 
lem. The  atmosphere  of  moral  sentiment  is  a 
region  of  grandeur  which  reduces  all  material 
magnificence  to  toys,  yet  opens  to  every  wretch 
that  has  reason  the  doors  of  the  universe.  Almost 
with  a  fierce  haste  it  lays  its  empire  on  the  man. 
In  the  language  of  the  Koran,  "  God  said,  the 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  97 

heaven  and  the  earth,  and  all  that  is  "between 
them,  think  ye  that  we  created  them  in  jest,  and 
that  ye  shall  not  return  to  us  ?  "  It  is  the  king- 
dom of  the  will,  and  by  inspiring  the  will,  which 
is  the  seat  of  personality,  seems  to  convert  the 
universe  into  a  person  j  — 

"  The  realms  of  being  to  no  other  bow, 
Not  only  all  are  thine,  but  all  are  Thou." 

All  men  are  commanded  by  the  saint.  The 
Koran  makes  a  distinct  class  of  those  who  are  by 
nature  good,  and  whose  goodness  has  an  influence 
on  others,  and  pronounces  this  class  to  be  the 
aim  of  creation  :  the  other  classes  are  admitted  to 
the  feast  of  being,  only  as  following  in  the  train 
of  this.  And  the  Persian  poet  exclaims  to  a  soul 
of  this  kind,  — 

"  Go  boldly  forth,  and  feast  on  being's  banquet } 
Thou  art  the  called,  —  the  rest  admitted  with  thee." 

The  privilege  of  this  caste  is  an  access  to  the 
secrets  and  structure  of  nature,  by  some  higher 
method  than  by  experience.  In  common  par- 
lance, what  one  man  is  said  to  learn  by  experience, 
a  man  of  extraordinary  sagacity  is  said,  without 
experience,  to  divine.  The  Arabians  say,  that 
Abul  Khain,  the  mystic,  and  Abu  Ali  Seena,  the 
9 


98  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

philosopher,  conferred  together ;  and,  on  parting, 
the  philosopher  said,  "  All  that  he  sees,  I  know  ;  " 
and  the  mystic  said,  ux4.11  that  he  knows,  I  see." 
If  one  should  ask  the  reason  of  this  intuition,  the 
solution  would  lead  us  into  that  property  which 
Plato  denoted  as  Reminiscence,  and  which  is 
implied  by  the  Bramins  in  the  tenet  of  Transmi- 
gration. The  soul  having  been  often  born,  or, 
as  the  Hindoos  say,  "  travelling  the  path  of  ex- 
istence through  thousands  of  births,"  having 
beheld  the  things  which  are  here,  those  which  are 
in  heaven,  and  those  which  are  beneath,  there  is 
nothing  of  which  she  has  not  gained  the  know- 
ledge :  no  wonder  that  she  is  able  to  recollect,  in 
regard  to  any  one  thing,  what  formerly  she  knew. 
"  For,  all  things  in  nature  being  linked  and  related, 
and  the  soul  having  heretofore  known  all,  nothing 
hinders  but  that  any  man  who  has  recalled  to 
mind,  or,  according  to  the  common  phrase,  has 
learned  one  thing  only,  should  of  himself  recover 
all  his  ancient  knowledge,  and  find  out  again  all 
the  rest,  if  he  have  but  courage,  and  faint  not  in 
the  midst  of  his  researches.  For  inquiry  and  learn- 
ing is  reminiscence  all."  How  much  more,  if  he 
that  inquires  be  a  holy  and  godlike  soul!  For, 
by  being  assimilated  to  the  original  soul,  by 
whom,  and  after  whom,  all  things  subsist,  the 
soul  of  man  does  then  easily  flow  into  all  things, 


SWEDENBORG  )    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  99 

and  all  things  flow  into  it :  they  mix ;  and  he  is 
present  and  sympathetic  with  their  structure  and 
law. 

This  path  is  difficult,  secret,  and  beset  with 
terror.  The  ancients  called  it  ecstacy  or  ab- 
sence, —  a  getting  out  of  their  bodies  to  think. 
All  religious  history  contains  traces  of  the  trance 
of  saints,  —  a  beatitude,  but  without  any  sign 
of  joy,  earnest,  solitary,  even  sad ;  "  the  flight," 
Plotinus  called  it,  "  of  the  alone  to  the  alone;" 
MvsffiSj  the  closing  of  the  eyes,  —  whence  our 
word,  Mystic.  The  trances  of  Socrates,  Ploti- 
nus, Porphyry,  Behmen,  Bunyan,  Fox,  Pascal, 
Guion,  Swedenborg,  will  readily  come  to  mind. 
But  what  as  readily  comes  to  mind,  is,  the  accom- 
paniment of  disease.  This  beatitude  comes  in 
terror,  and  with  shocks  to  the  mind  of  the  re- 
ceiver. "  It  o'erinforms  the  tenement  of  clay," 
and  drives  the  man  mad ;  or,  gives  a  certain 
violent  bias,  which  taints  his  judgment.  In  the 
chief  examples  of  religious  illumination,  some- 
what morbid  has  mingled,  in  spite  of  the  unques- 
tionable increase  of  mental  power.  Must  the 
highest  good  drag  after  it  a  quality  which  neu- 
tralizes and  discredits  it  ?  — 

"  Indeed,  it  takes 
From  our  achievements,  when  performed  at  height, 
The  pith  and  marrow  of  our  attribute." 


100  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Shall  we  say,  that  the  economical  mother  dis- 
burses so  much  earth  and  so  much  fire,  by  weight 
and  metre,  to  make  a  man,  and  will  not  add  a 
pennyweight,  though  a  nation  is  perishing  for  a 
leader  ?  Therefore,  the  men  of  God  purchased 
their  science,  by  folly  or  pain.  If  you  will  have 
pure  carbon,  carbuncle,  or  diamond,  to  make  the 
brain  transparent,  the  trunk  and  organs  shall  be 
so  much  the  grosser :  instead  of  porcelain,  they 
are  potter's  earth,  clay,  or  mud. 

In  modern  times,  no  such  remarkable  example 
of  this  introverted  mind  has  occurred,  as  in  Eman- 
uel Swedenborg,  born  in  Stockholm,  in  1688. 
This  man,  who  appeared  to  his  contemporaries  a 
visionary,  and  elixir  of  moonbeams,  no  doubt  led 
the  most  real  life  of  any  man  then  in  the  world  : 
and  now,  when  the  royal  and  ducal  Frederics, 
Cristierns,  and  Brunswicks,  of  that  day,  have  slid 
into  oblivion,  he  begins  to  spread  himself  into  the 
minds  of  thousands.  As  happens  in  great  men, 
he  seemed,  by  the  variety  and  amount  of  his 
powers,  to  be  a  composition  of  several  persons,  — 
like  the  giant  fruits  which  are  matured  in  gardens 
by  the  union  of  four  or  five  single  blossoms.  His 
frame  is  on  a  larger  scale,  and  possesses  the  advan- 
tages of  size.  As  it  is  easier  to  see  the  reflection 
of  the  great  sphere  in  large  globes,  though  de- 
faced by  some  crack  or  blemish,  than  in  drops  of 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  101 

water,  so  men  of  large  calibre,  though  with  some 
eccentricity  or  madness,  like  Pascal  or  Newton, 
help  us  more  than  balanced  mediocre  minds. 

His  youth  and  training  could  not  fail  to  be  ex- 
traordinary. Such  a  boy  could  not  whistle  or 
dance,  but  goes  grubbing  into  mines  and  moun- 
tains, prying  into  chemistry  and  optics,  physiology, 
mathematics,  and  astronomy,  to  find  images  fit  for 
the  measure  of  his  versatile  and  capacious  brain. 
He  was  a  scholar  from  a  child,  and  was  edu- 
cated at  Upsala.  At  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  he 
was  made  Assessor  of  the  Board  of  Mines,  by 
Charles  XII.  In  1716,  he  left  home  for  four 
years,  and  visited  the  universities  of  England, 
Holland,  France,  and  Germany.  He  performed  a 
notable  feat  of  engineering  in  1718,  at  the  siege 
of  Fredericshall,  by  hauling  two  galleys,  five 
boats,  and  a  sloop,  some  fourteen  English  miles 
overland,  for  the  royal  service.  In  1721,  he  jour- 
neyed over  Europe,  to  examine  mines  and  smelting 
works.  He  published,  in  1716,  his  Daedalus  Hy- 
perboreus,  and,  from  this  time,  for  the  next  thirty 
years,  was  employed  in  the  composition  and  pub- 
lication of  his  scientific  works.  With  the  like 
force,  he  threw  himself  into  theology.  In  1743, 
when  he  was  fifty-four  years  old,  what  is  called 
his  illumination  began.     All  his  metallurgy,  and 

transportation  of  ships  overland,  was  absorbed  into 
9# 


102  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

this  ecstasy.  He  ceased  to  publish  any  more  sci- 
entific books,  withdrew  from  his  practical  labors, 
and  devoted  himself  to  the  writing  and  publica- 
tion of  his  voluminous  theological  works,  which 
were  printed  at  his  own  expense,  or  at  that  of  the 
Duke  of  Brunswick,  or  other  prince,  at  Dresden, 
Leipsic,  London,  or  Amsterdam.  Later,  he  re- 
signed his  office  of  Assessor :  the  salary  attached 
to  this  office  continued  to  be  paid  to  him  during 
his  life.  His  duties  had  brought  him  into  intimate 
acquaintance  with  King  Charles  XII.,  by  whom 
he  was  much  consulted  and  honored.  The  like 
favor  was  continued  to  him  by  his  successor.  At 
the  Diet  of  1751,  Count  Hopken  says,  the  most 
solid  memorials  on  finance  were  from  his  pen.  In 
Sweden,  he  appears  to  have  attracted  a  marked 
regard.  His  rare  science  and  practical  skill,  and 
the  added  fame  of  second  sight  and  extraordinary 
religious  knowledge  and  gifts,  drew  to  him  queens, 
nobles,  clergy,  shipmasters,  and  people  about  the 
ports  through  which  he  was  wont  to  pass  in  his 
many  voyages.  The  clergy  interfered  a  little 
with  the  importation  and  publication  of  his  reli- 
gious works ;  but  he  seems  to  have  kept  the 
friendship  of  men  in  power.  He  was  never  mar- 
ried. He  had  great  modesty  and  gentleness  of 
bearing.  His  habits  were  simple  ;  he  lived  on 
bread,  milk,  and  vegetables  ;  he  lived  in  a  house 


SWEDENBORG  ]    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  103 

situated  in  a  large  garden :  he  went  several  times 
to  England,  where  he  does  not  seem  to  have  at- 
tracted any  attention  whatever  from  the  learned 
or  the  eminent ;  and  died  at  London,  March  29, 
1772,  of  apoplexy,  in  his  eighty-fifth  year.  He 
is  described,  when  in  London,  as  a  man  of  a  quiet, 
clerical  habit,  not  averse  to  tea  and  coffee,  and 
kind  to  children.  He  wore  a  sword  when  in  full 
velvet  dress,  and,  whenever  he  walked  out,  carried 
a  gold-headed  cane.  There  is  a  common  portrait 
of  him  in  antique  coat  and  wig,  but  the  face  has 
a  wandering  or  vacant  air. 

The  genius  which  was  to  penetrate  the  science 
of  the  age  with  a  far  more  subtle  science  ;  to  pass 
the  bounds  of  space  and  time ;  venture  into  the 
dim  spirit-realm,  and  attempt  to  establish  a  new 
religion  in  the  world,  —  began  its  lessons  in  quar- 
ries and  forges,  in  the  smelting-pot  and  crucible, 
in  ship-yards  and  dissecting-rooms.  No  one  man 
is  perhaps  able  to  judge  of  the  merits  of  his  works 
on  so  many  subjects.  One  is  glad  to  learn  that 
his  books  on  mines  and  metals  are  held  in  the 
highest  esteem  by  those  who  understand  these 
matters.  It  seems  that  he  anticipated  much  sci- 
ence of  the  nineteenth  century  ;  anticipated,  in 
astronomy,  the  discovery  of  the  seventh  planet,  — 
but,  unhappily,  not  also  of  the  eighth  ;  anticipated 
the  views  of  modern  astronomy  in  regard  to  the 


104  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

generation  of  earths  by  the  sun  :  in  magnetism, 
some  important  experiments  and  conclusions  of 
later  students  ;  in  chemistry,  the  atomic  theory  ; 
in  anatomy,  the  discoveries  of  Schlichting,  Monro, 
and  Wilson ;  and  first  demonstrated  the  office  of 
the  lungs.  His  excellent  English  editor  mag- 
nanimously lays  no  stress  on  his  discoveries,  since 
he  was  too  great  to  care  to  be  original ;  and 
we  are  to  judge,  by  what  he  can  spare,  of  what 
remains. 

A  colossal  soul,  he  lies  vast  abroad  on  his  times, 
uncomprehended  by  them,  and  requires  a  long 
focal  distance  to  be  seen  ;  suggests,  as  Aristotle, 
Bacon,  Selden,  Humboldt,  that  a  certain  vastness 
of  learning,  or  quasi  omnipresence  of  the  human 
soul  in  nature,  is  possible.  His  superb  speculation, 
as  from  a  tower,  over  nature  and  arts,  without  ever 
losing  sight  of  the  texture  and  sequence  of  things, 
almost  realizes  his  own  picture,  in  the  "  Principia," 
of  the  original  integrity  of  man.  Over  and  above 
the  merit  of  his  particular  discoveries,  is  the  capi- 
tal merit  of  his  self-equality.  A  drop  of  water 
has  the  properties  of  the  sea,  but  cannot  exhibit  a 
storm.  There  is  beauty  of  a  concert,  as  well  as 
of  a  flute  ;  strength  of  a  host,  as  well  as  of  a 
hero ;  and,  in  Swedenborg,  those  who  are  best 
acquainted  with  modern  books  will  most  admire 
the  merit  of  mass.     One  of  the  missouriums  and 


SWEDENBORG  ;    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  105 

mastodons  of  literature,  he  is  not  to  be  measured 
by  whole  colleges  of  ordinary  scholars.  His  stal- 
wart presence  would  nutter  the  gowns  of  an  uni- 
versity. Our  books  are  false  by  being  fragmenta- 
ry :  their  sentences  are  bonmots,  and  not  parts  of 
natural  discourse  ;  childish  expressions  of  surprise 
or  pleasure  in  nature ;  or,  worse,  owing  a  brief 
notoriety  to  their  petulance,  or  aversion  from  the 
order  of  nature, — being  some  curiosity  or  oddity, 
designedly  not  in  harmony  with  nature,  and  pur- 
posely framed  to  excite  surprise,  as  jugglers  do 
by  concealing  their  means.  But  Swedenborg  is 
systematic,  and  respective  of  the  world  in  every 
sentence :  all  the  means  are  orderly  given ;  his 
faculties  work  with  astronomic  punctuality,  and 
this  admirable  writing  is  pure  from  all  pertness  or 
egotism. 

Swedenborg  was  born  into  an  atmosphere  of 
great  ideas.  'Tis  hard  to  say  what  was  his  own : 
yet  his  life  was  dignified  by  noblest  pictures  of  the 
universe.  The  robust  Aristotelian  method,  with 
its  breadth  and  adequateness,  shaming  our  sterile 
and  linear  logic  by  its  genial  radiation,  conversant 
with  series  and  degree,  with  effects  and  ends, 
skilful  to  discriminate  power  from  form,  essence 
from  accident,  and  opening,  by  its  terminology 
and  definition,  high  roads  into  nature,  had  trained 
a   race    of    athletic    philosophers.      Harvey    had 


106  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

shown  the  circulation  of  the  blood :  Gilbert  had 
shown  that  the  earth  was  a  magnet :  Descartes, 
taught  by  Gilbert's  magnet,  with  its  vortex,  spiral, 
and  polarity,  had  filled  Europe  with  the  leading 
thought  of  vortical  motion,  as  the  secret  of  nature. 
Newton,  in  the  year  in  which  Swedenborg  was 
born,  published  the  "  Principia,"  and  established 
the  universal  gravity.  Malpighi,  following  the 
high  doctrines  of  Hippocrates,  Leucippus,  and 
Lucretius,  had  given  emphasis  to  the  dogma  that 
nature  works  in  leasts,  —  "  tota  in  minimis  existit 
natura."  Unrivalled  dissectors,  Swammerdam, 
Leeuwenhoek,  Winslow,  Eustachius,  Heister, 
Vesalius,  Boerhaave,  had  left  nothing  for  scalpel 
or  microscope  to  reveal  in  human  or  comparative 
anatomy :  Linnaeus,  his  contemporary,  was  af- 
firming, in  his  beautiful  science,  that  "  Nature  is 
always  like  herself:  "  and,  lastly,  the  nobility  of 
method,  the  largest  application  of  principles,  had 
been  exhibited  by  Leibnitz  and  Christian  Wolff, 
in  cosmology ;  whilst  Locke  and  Grotius  had 
drawn  the  moral  argument.  What  was  left  for  a 
genius  of  the  largest  calibre,  but  to  go  over  their 
ground,  and  verify  and  unite  ?  It  is  easy  to  see, 
in  these  minds,  the  origin  of  Swedenborg's  studies, 
and  the  suggestion  of  his  problems.  He  had  a 
capacity  to  entertain  and  vivify  these  volumes  of 
thought.    Yet  the  proximity  of  these  geniuses,  one 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  107 

or  other  of  whom  had  introduced  all  his  leading 
ideas,  makes  Swedenborg  another  example  of  the 
difficulty,  even  in  a  highly  fertile  genius,  of 
proving  originality,  the  first  birth  and  annuncia- 
tion of  one  of  the  laws  of  nature. 

He  named  his  favorite  views,  the  doctrine  of 
Forms,  the  doctrine  of  Series  and  Degrees,  the 
doctrine  of  Influx,  the  doctrine  of  Correspondence. 
His  statement  of  these  doctrines  deserves  to  be 
studied  in  his  books.  Not  every  man  can  read 
them,  but  they  will  reward  him  who  can.  His 
theologic  works  are  valuable  to  illustrate  these. 
His  writings  would  be  a  sufficient  library  to  a 
lonely  and  athletic  student ;  and  the  "  Economy 
of  the  Animal  Kingdom  "  is  one  of  those  books 
which,  by  the  sustained  dignity  of  thinking,  is 
an  honor  to  the  human  race.  He  had  studied 
spars  and  metals  to  some  purpose.  His  varied 
and  solid  knowledge  makes  his  style  lustrous 
with  points  and  shooting  spicula  of  thought,  and 
resembling  one  of  those  winter  mornings  when 
the  air  sparkles  with  crystals.  The  grandeur  of 
the  topics  makes  the  grandeur  of  the  style.  He 
was  apt  for  cosmology,  because  of  that  native 
perception  of  identity  which  made  mere  size  of 
no  account  to  him.  In  the  atom  of  magnetic 
iron,  he  saw  the  quality  which  would  generate 
the  spiral  motion  of  sun  and  planet. 


108  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

The  thoughts  in  which  he  lived  were,  the 
universality  of  each  law  in  nature  j  the  Platonic 
doctrine  of  the  scale  or  degrees ;  the  version  or 
conversion  of  each  into  other,  and  so  the  corre- 
spondence of  all  the  parts ;  the  fine  secret  that 
little  explains  large,  and  large,  little ;  the  central- 
ity  of  man  in  nature,  and  the  connection  that 
subsists  throughout  all  things  :  he  saw  that  the 
human  body  was  strictly  universal,  or  an  instru- 
ment through  which  the  soul  feeds  and  is  fed 
by  the  whole  of  matter  :  so*  that  he  held,  in 
exact  antagonism  to  the  skeptics,  that,  "  the  wiser 
a  man  is,  the  more  will  he  be  a  worshipper  of 
the  Deity.7'  In  short,  he  was  a  believer  in  the 
Identity-philosophy,  which  he  held  not  idly,  as 
the  dreamers  of  Berlin  or  Boston,  but  which  he 
experimented  with  and  stablished  through  years 
of  labor,  with  the  heart  and  strength  of  the 
rudest  Viking  that  his  rough  Sweden  ever  sent 
to  battle. 

This  theory  dates  from  the  oldest  philosophers, 
and  derives  perhaps  its  best  illustration  from  the 
newest.  It  is  this  :  that  nature  iterates  her 
means  perpetually  on  successive  planes.  In  the 
old  aphorism,  nature  is  always  self-similar.  In 
the  plant,  the  eye  or  germinative  point  opens  to 
a  leaf,  then  to  another  leaf,  with  a  power  of 
transforming  the  leaf  into  radicle,  stamen,  pistil, 


SWEDENBORG  ]    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  109 

petal,  bract,  sepal,  or  seed.  The  whole  art  of 
the  plant  is  still  to  repeat  leaf  on  leaf  without 
end,  the  more  or  less  of  heat,  light,  moisture, 
and  food,  determining  the  form  it  shall  assume. 
In  the  animal,  nature  makes  a  vertebra,  or  a  spine 
of  vertebras,  and  helps  herself  still  by  a  new 
spine,  with  a  limited  power  of  modifying  its 
form,  — -  spine  on  spine,  to  the  end  of  the  world. 
A  poetic  anatomist,  in  our  own  day,  teaches  that 
a  snake,  being  a  horizontal  line,  and  man,  being 
an  erect  line,  constitute  a  right  angle  •  and,  be- 
tween the  lines  of  this  mystical  quadrant,  all 
animated  beings  find  their  place :  and  he  assumes 
the  hair-worm,  the  span-worm,  or  the  snake,  as 
the  type  or  prediction  of  the  spine.  Manifestly, 
at  the  end  of  the  spine,  nature  puts  out  smaller 
spines,  as  arms  ;  at  the  end  of  the  arms,  new  spines, 
as  hands  ;  at  the  other  end,  she  repeats  the  process, 
as  legs  and  feet.  At  the  top  of  the  column,  she 
puts  out  another  spine,  which  doubles  or  loops 
itself  over,  as  a  span-worm,  into  a  ball,  and  forms 
the  skull,  with  extremities  again :  the  hands  be- 
ing now  the  upper  jaw,  the  feet  the  lower  jaw, 
the  fingers  and  toes  being  represented  this  time 
by  upper  and  lower  teeth.  This  new  spine  is 
destined  to  high  uses.  It  is  a  new  man  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  last.  It  can  almost  shed  its 
trunk,  and  manage  to  live  alone,  according  to  the 
10 


110  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Platonic  idea  in  the  Timeeus.  Within  it,  on  a 
higher  plane,  all  that  was  done  in  the  trunk  re- 
peats itself.  Nature  recites  her  lesson  once  more 
in  a  higher  mood.  The  mind  is  a  finer  body, 
and  resumes  its  functions  of  feeding,  digesting, 
absorbing,  excluding,  and  generating,  in  a  new 
and  ethereal  element.  Here,  in  the  brain,  is  all 
the  process  of  alimentation  repeated,  in  the  ac- 
quiring, comparing,  digesting,  and  assimilating 
of  experience.  Here  again  is  the  mystery  of 
generation  repeated.  In  the  brain  are  male  and 
female  faculties :  here  is  marriage,  here  is  fruit. 
And  there  is  no  limit  to  this  ascending  scale,  but 
series  on  series.  Every  thing,  at  the  end  of  one 
use,  is  taken  up  into  the  next,  each  series  punc- 
tually repeating  every  organ  and  process  of  the 
last.  We  are  adapted  to  infinity.  We  are  hard 
to  please,  and  love  nothing  which  ends :  and  in 
nature  is  no  end ;  but  every  thing,  at  the  end  of 
one  use,  is  lifted  into  a  superior,  and  the  ascent 
of  these  things  climbs  into  daemonic  and  celestial 
natures.  Creative  force,  like  a  musical  composer, 
goes  on  unweariedly  repeating  a  simple  air  or 
theme,  now  high,  now  low,  in  solo,  in  chorus, 
ten  thousand  times  reverberated,  till  it  fills  earth 
and  heaven  with  the  chant. 

Gravitation,  as  explained  by  Newton,  is  good . 
but  grander,  when  we  find  chemistry  only  an  ex- 


SWEDENBORG  ;    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  Ill 

tension  of  the  law  of  masses  into  particles,  and 
that  the  atomic  theory  shows  the  action  of  chem- 
istry to  be  mechanical  also.  Metaphysics  shows 
us  a  sort  of  gravitation,  operative  also  in  the  men- 
tal phenomena ;  and  the  terrible  tabulation  of  the 
French  statists  brings  every  piece  of  whim  and 
humor  to  be  reducible  also  to  exact  numerical 
ratios.  If  one  man  in  twenty  thousand,  or  in 
thirty  thousand,  eats  shoes,  or  marries  his  grand- 
mother, then,  in  every  twenty  thousand,  or  thirty 
thousand,  is  found  one  man  who  eats  shoes,  or 
marries  his  grandmother.  What  we  call  gravita- 
tion, and  fancy  ultimate,  is  one  fork  of  a  mightier 
stream,  for  which  we  have  yet  no  name.  Astron- 
omy is  excellent ;  but  it  must  come  up  into  life  to 
have  its  fall  value,  and  not  remain  there  in  globes 
and  spaces.  The  globule  of  blood  gyrates  around 
its  own  axis  in  the  human  veins,  as  the  planet  in 
the  sky  ;  and  the  circles  of  intellect  relate  to  those 
of  the  heavens.  Each  law  of  nature  has  the  like 
universality ;  eating,  sleep  or  hybernation,  rota- 
tion, generation,  metamorphosis,  vortical  motion, 
which  is  seen  in  eggs  as  in  planets.  These  grand 
rhymes  or  returns  in  nature,  — the  dear,  best-known 
face  startling  us  at  every  turn,  under  a  mask  so 
unexpected  that  we  think  it  the  face  of  a  stranger, 
and,  carrying  up  the  semblance  into  divine  forms,  — - 
delighted  the  prophetic  eye  of  Swedenborg  ;  and 


112  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

he  must  be  reckoned  a  leader  in  that  revolution, 
which,  by  giving  to  science  an  idea,  has  given  to 
an  aimless  accumulation  of  experiments,  guidance 
and  form,  and  a  beating  heart. 

I  own,  with  some  regret,  that  his  printed  works 
amount  to  about  fifty  stout  octavos,  his  scientific 
works  being  about  half  of  the  whole  number  ;  and 
it  appears  that  a  mass  of  manuscript  still  unedited 
remains  in  the  royal  library  at  Stockholm.  The 
scientific  works  have  just  now  been  translated  into 
English,  in  an  excellent  edition. 

Swedenborg  printed  these  scientific  books  in  the 
ten  years  from  1734  to  1744,  and  they  remained 
from  that  time  neglected  :  and  now,  after  their 
century  is  complete,  he  has  at  last  found  a  pupil 
in  Mr.  Wilkinson,  in  London,  a  philosophic  critic, 
with  a  coequal  vigor  of  understanding  and  imagi- 
nation comparable  only  to  Lord  Bacon's,  who 
has  produced  his  master's  buried  books  to  the  day, 
and  transferred  them,  with  every  advantage,  from 
their  forgotten  Latin  into  English,  to  go  round  the 
world  in  our  commercial  and  conquering  tongue. 
This  startling  reappearance  of  Swedenborg,  after 
a  hundred  years,  in  his  pupil,  is  not  the  least  re- 
markable fact  in  his  history.  Aided,  it  is  said,  by 
the  munificence  of  Mr.  Clissold,  and  also  by  his 
literary  skill,  this  piece  of  poetic  justice  is  done. 
The  admirable  preliminary  discourses  with  which 


SWEDENBORG  ;    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  113 

Mr.  Wilkinson  has  enriched  these  volumes,  throw 
all  the  cotemporary  philosophy  of  England  into 
shade,  and  leave  me  nothing  to  say  on  their  proper 
grounds. 

The  "  Animal  Kingdom  "  is  a  book  of  wonder- 
ful merits.  It  was  written  with  the  highest  end,  — 
to  put  science  and  the  soul,  long  estranged  from 
each  other,  at  one  again.  It  was  an  anatomist's 
account  of  the  human  body,  in  the  highest  style 
of  poetry.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  bold  and  bril- 
liant treatment  of  a  subject  usually  so  dry  and 
repulsive.  He  saw  nature  "  wreathing  through 
an  everlasting  spiral,  with  wheels  that  never  dry, 
on  axes  that  never  creak,"  and  sometimes  sought 
"  to  uncover  those  secret  recesses  where  nature  is 
sitting  at  the  fires  in  the  depths  of  her  labora- 
tory ;  "  whilst  the  picture  comes  recommended  by 
the  hard  fidelity  with  which  it  is  based  on  practi- 
cal anatomy.  It  is  remarkable  that  this  sublime 
genius  decides,  peremptorily  for  the  analytic, 
against  the  synthetic  method ;  and,  in  a  book 
whose  genius  is  a  daring  poetic  synthesis,  claims 
to  confine  himself  to  a  rigid  experience. 

He  knows,  if  he  only,  the  flowing  of  nature, 
and  how  wise  was  that  old  answer  of  Amasis  to 
him  who  bade  him  drink  up  the  sea,  — "  Yes, 
willingly,  if  you  will  stop  the  rivers  that  flow 
in."  Few  knew  as  much  about  nature  and  her 
10* 


114  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

subtle  manners,  or  expressed  more  subtly  her 
goings.  He  thought  as  large  a  demand  is  made 
on  our  faith  by  nature,  as  by  miracles.  "  He 
noted  that  in  her  proceeding  from  first  principles 
through  her  several  subordinations,  there  was  no 
state  through  which  she  did  not  pass,  as  if  her 
path  lay  through  ail  things."  "  For  as  often  as 
she  betakes  herself  upward  from  visible  phenom- 
ena, or,  in  other  words,  withdraws  herself  inward, 
she  instantly,  as  it  were,  disappears,  while  no  one 
knows  what  has  become  of  her,  or  whither  she 
is  gone  :  so  that  it  is  necessary  to  take  science  as 
a  guide  in  pursuing  her  steps." 

The  pursuing  the  inquiry  under  the  light  of  an 
end  or  final  cause,  gives  wonderful  animation,  a 
sort  of  personality  to  the  whole  writing.  This 
book  announces  his  favorite  dogmas.  The 
ancient  doctrine  of  Hippocrates,  that  the  brain  is 
a  gland;  and  of  Leucippus,  that  the  atom  may 
be  known  by  the  mass ;  or,  in  Plato,  the  macro- 
cosm by  the  microcosm ;  and,  in  the  verses  of 
Lucretius,  — 

Ossa  videlicet  e  pauxillis  atque  minutis 
Ossibus  sic  et  de  pauxillis  atque  minutis 
Visceribus  viscus  gigni,  sanguenque  creari 
Sanguinis  inter  se  multis  coeuntibus  guttis  ; 
Ex  aurique  putat  micis  consistere  posse 
Aurum,  et  de  terris  terram  concrescere  parvis ; 
lgnibus  ex  igneis,  humorem  humoribus  esse. 

Lib.  L  835. 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,   THE    MYSTIC.  115 

"  The  principle  of  all  things  entrails  made 

Of  smallest  entrails ;  bone,  of  smallest  bone ; 

Blood,  of  small  sanguine  drops  reduced  to  one ; 

Gold,  of  small  grains  ;  earth,  of  small  sands  compacted ; 

Small  drops  to  water,  sparks  to  fire  contracted :  " 

and  which  Malpighi  had  summed  in  his  maxim, 
that  "nature  exists  entire  in  leasts," — -is  a  favor- 
ite thought  of  Swedenborg.  "It  is  a  constant 
law  of  the  organic  body,  that  large,  compound,  or 
visible  forms  exist  and  subsist  from  smaller,  sim- 
pler, and  ultimately  from  invisible  forms,  which 
act  similarly  to  the  larger  ones,  but  more  perfectly 
and  more  universally  j  and  the  least  forms  so  per- 
fectly and  universally,  as  to  involve  an  idea  repre- 
sentative of  their  entire  universe."  The  unities 
of  each  organ  are  so  many  little  organs,  homoge- 
neous with  their  compound  :  the  unities  of  the 
tongue  are  little  tongues ;  those  of  the  stomach, 
little  stomachs  ;  those  of  the  heart  are  little  hearts. 
This  fruitful  idea  furnishes  a  key  to  every  secret. 
What  was  too  small  for  the  eye  to  detect  was  read 
by  the  aggregates ;  what  was  too  large,  by  the 
units.  There  is  no  end  to  his  application  of  the 
thought.  "  Hunger  is  an  aggregate  of  very  many 
little  hungers,  or  losses  of  blood  by  the  little  veins 
all  over  the  body."  It  is  a  key  to  his  theology, 
also.  "  Man  is  a  kind  of  very  minute  heaven, 
corresponding   to   the    world   of    spirits    and   to 


116  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

heaven.  Every  particular  idea  of  man,  and  ev- 
ery affection,  yea,  every  smallest  part  of  his  affec- 
tion, is  an  image  and  effigy  of  him.  A  spirit  may 
be  known  from  only  a  single  thought.  God  is  the 
grand  man." 

The  hardihood  and  thoroughness  of  his  study 
of  nature  required  a  theory  of  forms,  also. 
"  Forms  ascend  in  order  from  the  loivest  to  the 
highest.  The  lowest  form  is  angular,  or  the  ter- 
restrial and  corporeal.  The  second  and  next 
higher  form  is  the  circular,  which  is  also  called 
the  perpetual-angular,  because  the  circumference 
of  a  circle  is  a  perpetual  angle.  The  form  above 
this  is  the  spiral,  parent  and  measure  of  circular 
forms :  its  diameters  are  not  rectilinear,  but  vari- 
ously circular,  and  have  a  spherical  surface  for 
centre  ;  therefore  it  is  called  the  perpetual-circu- 
lar. The  form  above  this  is  the  vortical,  or  per- 
petual-spiral :  next,  the  perpetual-vortical,  or  ce- 
lestial:  last,  the  perpetual-celestial,  or  spiritual." 

Was  it  strange  that  a  genius  so  bold  should 
take  the  last  step,  also,  —  conceive  that  he  might 
attain  the  science  of  all  sciences,  to  unlock  the 
meaning  of  the  world  ?  In  the  first  volume  of 
the  "Animal  Kingdom,"  he  broaches  the  subject, 
in  a  remarkable  note.  — 

"  In  our  doctrine  of  Representations  and  Cor- 
respondences, we  shall  treat  of  both  these  sym- 


117 

bolical  and  typical  resemblances,  and  of  the  aston- 
ishing things  which  occur,  I  will  not  say,  in  the 
living  body  only,  but  throughout  nature,  and 
which  correspond  so  entirely  to  supreme  and 
spiritual  things,  that  one  would  swear  that  the 
physical  world  was  purely  symbolical  of  the  spir- 
itual world ;  insomuch,  that  if  we  choose  to  ex- 
press any  natural  truth  in  physical  and  definite 
vocal  terms,  and  to  convert  these  terms  only  into 
the  corresponding  and  spiritual  terms,  we  shall  by 
this  means  elicit  a  spiritual  truth,  or  theological 
dogma,  in  place  of  the  physical  truth  or  precept : 
although  no  mortal  would  have  predicted  that 
any  thing  of  the  kind  could  possibly  arise  by 
bare  literal  transposition ;  inasmuch  as  the  one 
precept,  considered  separately  from  the  other, 
appears  to  have  absolutely  no  relation  to  it.  I 
intend,  hereafter,  to  communicate  a  number  of 
examples  of  such  correspondences,  together  with 
a  vocabulary  containing  the  terms  of  spiritual 
things,  as  well  as  of  the  physical  things  for  which 
they  are  to  be  substituted.  This  symbolism  per- 
vades the  living  body." 

The  fact,  thus  explicitly  stated,  is  implied  in 
all  poetry,  in  allegory,  in  fable,  in  the  use  of  em- 
blems, and  in  the  structure  of  language.  Plato 
knew  of  it,  as  is  evident  from  his  twice  bisected 
line,  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Republic.     Lord 


118  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Bacon  had  found  that  truth  and  nature  differed 
only  as  seal  and  print ;  and  he  instanced  some 
physical  propositions,  with  their  translation  into  a 
moral  or  political  sense.  Behmen,  and  all  mys- 
tics, imply  this  law,  in  their  dark  riddle-writing. 
The  poets,  in  as  far  as  they  are  poets,  use  it ;  but 
it  is  known  to  them  only,  as  the  magnet  was 
known  for  ages,  as  a  toy.  Swedenborg  first  put 
the  fact  into  a  detached  and  scientific  statement, 
because  it  was  habitually  present  to  him,  and 
never  not  seen.  It  was  involved,  as  we  explained 
already,  in  the  doctrine  of  identity  and  iteration, 
because  the  mental  series  exactly  tallies  with  the 
material  series.  It  required  an  insight  that  could 
rank  things  in  order  and  series  ;  or,  rather,  it  re- 
quired such  Tightness  of  position,  that  the  poles 
of  the  eye  should  coincide  with  the  axis  of  the 
world.  The  earth  had  fed  its  mankind  through 
five  or  six  milleniums,  and  they  had  sciences, 
religions,  philosophies ;  and  yet  had  failed  to  see 
the  correspondence  of  meaning  between  every 
part  and  every  other  part.  And,  down  to  this 
hour,  literature  has  no  book  in  which  the  symbol- 
ism of  things  is  scientifically  opened.  One  would 
say,  that,  as  soon  as  men  had  the  first  hint  that 
every  sensible  object,  —  animal,  rock,  river,  air,  — 
nay,  space  and  time,  subsists  not  for  itself,  nor 
finally  to  a  material  end,  but  as  a  picture-language, 


swedenborg;  or,  the  mystic.  119 

to  tell  another  story  of  beings  and  duties,  other 
science  would  be  put  by,  and  a  science  of  such 
grand  presage  would  absorb  all  faculties :  that 
each  man  would  ask  of  all  objects,  what  they 
mean :  Why  does  the  horizon  hold  me  fast,  with 
my  joy  and  grief,  in  this  centre  ?  Why  hear  I 
the  same  sense  from  countless  differing  voices, 
and  read  one  never  quite  expressed  fact  in  endless- 
picture-language  ?  Yet,  whether  it  be^that  these 
things  will  not  be  intellectually  learned,  or,  that 
many  centuries  must  elaborate  and  compose  so 
rare  and  opulent  a  soul,  — -there  is  no  comet,  rock- 
stratum,  fossil,  fish,  quadruped,  spider,  or  fungus, 
that,  for  itself,  does  not  interest  more  scholars 
and  classifiers,  than  the  meaning  and  upshot  of 
the  frame  of  things. 

But  Swedenborg  was  not  content  with  the 
culinary  use  of  the  world.  In  his  fifty-fourth 
year,  these  thoughts  held  him  fast,  and  his  pro- 
found mind  admitted  the  perilous  opinion,  too 
frequent  in  religious  history,  that  he  was  an 
abnormal  person,  to  whom  was  granted  the  privi- 
lege of  conversing  with  angels  and  spirits ;  and 
this  ecstasy  connected  itself  with  just  this  office 
of  explaining  the  moral  import  of  the  sensible 
world.  To  a  right  perception,  at  once  broad  and 
minute,  of  the  order  of  nature,  he  added  the 
comprehension  of  the  moral  laws  in  their  widest 


120  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

social  aspects ;  but  whatever  he  saw,  through 
some  excessive  determination  to  form,  in  his  con- 
stitution, he  saw  not  abstractly,  but  in  pictures, 
heard  it  in  dialogues,  constructed  it  in  eventSv 
When  he  attempted  to  announce  the  law  most 
sanely,  he  was  forced  to  Couch  it  in  parable. 

Modern  psychology  offers  no  similar  example 
of  a  deranged  balance.  The  principal  powers 
continued  to  maintain  a  healthy  action  •  and,  to 
a  reader  who  can  make  due  allowance  in  the 
report  for  the  reporter's  peculiarities,  the  results 
are  still  instructive,  and  a  more  striking  testimony 
to  the  sublime  laws  he  announced,  than  any  that 
balanced  dulness  could  afford.  He  attempts  to 
give  some  account  of  the  modus  of  the  new 
state,  affirming  that  "  his  presence  in  the  spiritual 
world  is  attended  with  a  certain  separation,  but 
only  as  to  the  intellectual  part  of  his  mind,  not 
as  to  the  will  part ;  "  and  he  affirms  that  "he 
sees,  with  the  internal  sight,  the  things  that  are 
in  another  life,  more  clearly  than  he  sees  the 
things  which  are  here  in  the  world." 

Having  adopted  the  belief  that  certain  books 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  were  exact 
allegories,  or  written  in  the  angelic  and  ecstatic 
mode,  he  employed  his  remaining  years  in  extri- 
cating from  the  literal,  the  universal  sense.  He 
had  borrowed  from  Plato  the   fine  fable  of   "  a 


SWEDENBORGJ    OR,   THE    MTtSTlC.  121 

most  ancient  people,  men  better  than  we,  and 
dwelling  nigher  to  the  gods ; "  and  Swedenborg 
added,  that  they  used  the  earth  symbolically  j 
that  these,  when  they  saw  terrestrial  objects,  did 
not  think  at  all  about  them,  but  only  about  those 
which  they  signified.  The  correspondence  be- 
tween thoughts  and  things  henceforward  occu- 
pied him.  "  The  very  organic  form  resembles 
the  end  inscribed  on  it."  A  man  is  in  general, 
and  in  particular,  an  organized  justice  or  injustice, 
selfishness  or  gratitude.  And  the  cause  of  this 
harmony  he  assigned  in  the  Arcana :  "  The  rea- 
son why  all  and  single  things,  in  the  heavens  and 
on  earth,  are  representative,  is  because  they  exist 
from  an  influx  of  the  Lord,  through  heaven." 
This  design  of  exhibiting  such  correspondences, 
which,  if  adequately  executed,  would  be  the 
poem  of  the  world,  in  which  all  history  and 
science  would  play  an  essential  part,  was  nar- 
rowed and  defeated  by  the  exclusively  theologic 
direction  which  his  inquiries  took.  His  percep- 
tion of  nature  is  not  human  and  universal,  but  is 
mystical  and  Hebraic.  He  fastens  each  natural 
object  to  a  theologic  notion;  —  a  horse  signifies 
carnal  understanding ;  a  tree,  perception ;  the 
moon,  faith ;  a  cat  means  this ;  an  ostrich,  that ; 
an  artichoke,  this  other ;  and  poorly  tethers  every 
symbol  to  a  several  ecclesiastic  sense.  The 
11 


12*2  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN* 

slippery  Proteus  is  not  so  easily  caught.  In 
nature,  each  individual  symbol  plays  innumerable 
parts,  as  each  particle  of  matter  circulates  in  turn 
through  every  system.  The  central  identity 
enables  any  one  symbol  to  express  successively 
all  the  qualities  and  shades  of  real  being.  In 
the  transmission  of  the  heavenly  waters,  every 
hose  fits  every  hydrant.  Nature  avenges  herself 
speedily  on  the  hard  pedantry  that  would  chain 
her  waves.  She  is  no  literalist.  Every  thing 
must  be  taken  genially,  and  we  must  be  at  the 
top  of  our  condition,  to  understand  any  thing 
rightly. 

His  theological  bias  thus  fatally  narrowed  his 
interpretation  of  nature,  and  the  dictionary  of 
symbols  is  yet  to  be  written.  But  the  interpreter, 
whom  mankind  must  still  expect,  will  find  no 
predecessor  who  has  approached  so  near  to  the 
true  problem. 

Swedenborg  styles  himself,  in  the  title-page 
of  his  books,  "  Servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  " 
and  by  force  of  intellect,  and  in  effect,  he  is  the 
last  Father  in  the  Church,  and  is  not  likely  to 
have  a  successor.  No  wonder  that  his  depth  of 
ethical  wisdom  should  give  him  influence  as  a 
teacher.  To  the  withered  traditional  church 
yielding  dry  catechisms,  he  let  in  nature  again, 
and  the  worshipper,  escaping  from  the  vestry  of 


swedenborg;  or,  the  mystic.  123 

verbs  and  texts,  is  surprised  to  find  himself  a 
party  to  the  whole  of  his  religion.  His  religion 
thinks  for  him,  and  is  of  universal  application. 
He  turns  it  on  every  side ;  it  fits  every  part  of 
life,  interprets  and  dignifies  every  circumstance. 
Instead  of  a  religion  which  visited  him  diplomat- 
ically three  or  four  times,  —  when  he  was  born, 
when  he  married,  when  he  fell  sick,  and  when 
he  died,  and  for  the  rest  never  interfered  with 
him,  —  here  was  a  teaching  which  accompanied 
him  all  day,  accompanied  him  even  into  sleep 
and  dreams ;  into  his  thinking,  and  showed  him 
through  what  a  long  ancestry  his  thoughts  de- 
scend ;  into  society,  and  showed  by  what  affin- 
ities he  was  girt  to  his  equals  and  his  counterparts ; 
into  natural  objects,  and  showed  their  origin  and 
meaning,  what  are  friendly,  and  what  are  hurtful  ; 
and  opened  the  future  world,  by  indicating  the 
continuity  of  the  same  laws.  His  disciples  allege 
that  their  intellect  is  invigorated  by  the  study  of 
his  books. 

There  is  no  such  problem  for  criticism  as  his 
theological  writings,  their  merits  are  so  command- 
ing ;  yet  such  grave  deductions  must  be  made. 
Their  immense  and  sandy  diffuseness  is  like  the 
prairie,  or  the  desert,  and  their  incongruities  are 
like  the  last  deiiration.  He  is  superfluously  ex- 
planatory, and  his  feeling  of  the  ignorance  of  men, 


124  REPRESENTATIVE   MEN. 

strangely  exaggerated.  Men  take  truths  of  this 
nature  very  fast.  Yet  he  abounds  in  assertions  : 
he  is  a  rich  discoverer,  and  of  things  which  most 
import  us  to  know.  His  thought  dwells  in  essen- 
tial resemblances,  like  the  resemblance  of  a 
house  to  the  man  who  built  it.  He  saw  things 
in  their  law,  in  likeness  of  function,  not  of  struc- 
ture. There  is  an  invariable  method  and  order  in 
his  delivery  of  his  truth,  the  habitual  proceeding 
of  the  mind  from  inmost  to  outmost.  What  ear- 
nestness and  weightiness,  —  his  eye  never  roving, 
without  one  swell  of  vanity,  or  one  look  to  self, 
in  any  common  form  of  literary  pride  !  a  theoret- 
ic or  speculative  man,  but  whom  no  practical  man 
in  the  universe  could  affect  to  scorn.  Plato  is  a 
gownsman  :  his  garment,  though  of  purple,  and 
almost  sky-woven,  is  an  academic  robe,  and  hin- 
ders action  with  its  voluminous  folds.  But  this 
mystic  is  awful  to  Caesar.  Lycurgus  himself 
would  bow. 

The  moral  insight  of  Swedenborg,  the  correc- 
tion of  popular  errors,  the  announcement  of  ethi- 
cal laws,  take  him  out  of  comparison  with  any 
other  modern  writer,  and  entitle  him  to  a  place, 
vacant  for  some  ages,  among  the  lawgivers  of 
mankind.  That  slow  but  commanding  influence 
which  he  has  acquired,  like  that  of  other  reli- 
gious geniuses,  must  be  excessive  also,  and  have 


SWEDENBORG  ;    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  125 

its  tides,  before  it  subsides  into  a  permanent 
amount.  Of  course,  what  is  real  and  universal 
cannot  be  confined  to  the  circle  of  those  who 
sympathize  strictly  with  his  genius,  but  will  pass 
forth  into  the  common  stock  of  wise  and  just 
thinking.  The  world  has  a  sure  chemistry,  by 
which  it  extracts  what  is  excellent  in  its  children, 
and  lets  fall  the  infirmities  and  limitations  of  the 
grandest  mind. 

That  metempsychosis  which  is  familiar  in  the 
old  mythology  of  the  Greeks,  collected  in  Ovid, 
and  in  the  Indian  Transmigration,  and  is  there 
objective,  or  really  takes  place  in  bodies  by  alien 
will,  —  in  Swedenborg's  mind,  has  a  more  philo- 
sophic character.  It  is  subjective,  or  depends 
entirely  upon  the  thought  of  the  person.  All 
things  in  the  universe  arrange  themselves  to  each 
person  anew,  according  to  his  ruling  love.  Man 
is  such  as  his  affection  and  thought  are.  Man  is 
man  by  virtue  of  willing,  not  by  virtue  of  know- 
ing and  understanding.  As  he  is,  so  he  sees. 
The  marriages  of  the  world  are  broken  up.  In- 
teriors associate  all  in  the  spiritual  world.  What- 
ever the  angels  looked  upon  was  to  them  celestial. 
Each  Satan  appears  to  himself  a  man  ;  to  those 
as  bad  as  he,  a  comely  man  ;  to  the  purified,  a 
heap  of  carrion.  Nothing  can  resist  states : 
every  thing  gravitates  :  like  will  to  like :  what 
11* 


126  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

we  call  poetic  justice  takes  effect  on  the  spot. 
We  have  come  into  a  world  which  is  a  living 
poem.  Every  thing  is  as  I  am.  Bird  and  beast 
is  not  bird  and  beast,  but  emanation  and  effluvia 
of  the  minds  and  wills  of  men  there  present. 
Every  one  makes  his  own  house  and  state.  The 
ghosts  are  tormented  with  the  fear  of  death,  and 
cannot  remember  that  they  have  died.  They 
who  are  in  evil  and  falsehood  are  afraid  of  all 
others.  Such  as  have  deprived  themselves  of 
charity,  wander  and  nee :  the  societies  which 
they  approach  discover  their  quality,  and  drive 
them  away.  The  covetous  seem  to  themselves 
to  be  abiding  in  cells  where  their  money  is 
deposited,  and  these  to  be  infested  with  mice. 
They  who  place  merit  in  good  works  seem  to 
themselves  to  cut  wood.  u  I  asked  such,  if 
they  were  not  wearied  ?  They  replied,  that 
they  have  not  yet  done  work  enough  to  merit 
heaven." 

He  delivers  golden  sayings,  which  express  with 
singular  beauty  the  ethical  laws  ;  as  when  he 
uttered  that  famed  sentence,  that,  "in  heaven 
the  angels  are  advancing  continually  to  the 
spring-time  of  their  youth,  so  that  the  oldest 
angel  appears  the  youngest :  "  "  The  more  angels, 
the  more  room : "  "  The  perfection  of  man  is 
the  love  of  use :  "    "  Man,  in  his  perfect  form,  is 


swedenboeg;  or,  the  mystic.  127 

heaven : "  "  What  is  from  Him,  is  Him  :  "  "  Ends 
always  ascend  as  nature  descends  :  "  And  the 
truly  poetic  account  of  the  writing  in  the  inmost 
heaven,  which,  as  it  consists  of  inflexions  accord- 
ing to  the  form  of  heaven,  can  be  read  without 
instruction.  He  almost  justifies  his  claim  to 
preternatural  vision,  by  strange  insights  of  the 
structure  of  the  human  body  and  mind.  "It  is 
never  permitted  to  any  one,  in  heaven,  to  stand 
behind  another  and  look  at  the  back  of  his  head : 
for  then  the  influx  which  is  from  the  Lord  is 
disturbed."  The  angels,  from  the  sound  of  the 
voice,  know  a  man's  love  ;  from  the  articulation 
of  the  sound,  his  wisdom ;  and  from  the  sense 
of  the  words,  his  science. 

In  the  "  Conjugal  Love,"  he  has  unfolded  the 
science  of  marriage.  Of  this  book,  one  would 
say,  that,  with  the  highest  elements,  it  has  failed 
of  success.  It  came  near  to  be  the  Hymn  of 
Love,  which  Plato  attempted  in  the  "  Banquet ;  " 
the  love,  which,  Dante  says,  Casella  sang  among 
the  angels  in  Paradise ;  and  which,  as  rightly 
celebrated,  in  its  genesis,  fruition,  and  effect, 
might  well  entrance  the  souls,  as  it  would  lay 
open  the  genesis  of  all  institutions,  customs,  and 
manners.  The  book  had  been  grand,  if  the  He- 
braism had  been  omitted,  and  the  law  stated  with- 
out Gothicism,  as  ethics,  and  with  that  scope  for 


128  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

ascension  of  state  which  the  nature  of  things  re- 
quires. It  is  a  fine  Platonic  development  of  the 
science  of  marriage ;  teaching  that  sex  is  univer- 
sal, and  not  local ;  virility  in  the  male  qualifying 
every  organ,  act,  and  thought ;  and  the  feminine 
in  woman.  Therefore,  in  the  real  or  spiritual 
world,  the  nuptial  union  is  not  momentary,  but 
incessant  and  total ;  and  chastity  not  a  local,  but 
a  universal  virtue  ;  unchastity  being  discovered  as 
much  in  the  trading,  or  planting,  or  speaking,  or 
philosophizing,  as  in  generation ;  and  that,  though* 
the  virgins  he  saw  in  heaven  were  beautiful,  the 
wives  were  incomparably  more  beautiful,  and 
went  on  increasing  in  beauty  evermore. 

Yet  Swedenborg,  after  his  mode,  pinned  his 
theory  to  a  temporary  form.  He  exaggerates  the 
circumstance  of  marriage ;  and,  though  he  finds 
false  marriages  on  earth,  fancies  a  wiser  choice  in 
heaven.  But  of  progressive  souls,  all  loves  and 
friendships  are  momentary.  Do  yon  love  me  ? 
means,  Do  you  see  the  same  truth  ?  If  you  do, 
we  are  happy  with  the  same  happiness :  but  pres- 
ently one  of  us  passes  into  the  perception  of  new 
truth  ;  —  we  are  divorced,  and  no  tension  in  nature 
can  hold  us  to  each  other.  I  know  how  delicious 
is  this  cup  of  love,  —  I  existing  for  you,  you  ex- 
isting for  me ;  but  it  is  a  child's  clinging  to  his 
toy ;  an  attempt  to  eternize  the  fireside  and  nup- 


swedenborg;  or,  the  mystic.  129 

tial  chamber ;  to  keep  the  picture-alphabet  through 
which  our  first  lessons  are  prettily  conveyed. 
The  Eden  of  God  is  bare  and  grand :  like  the 
out-door  landscape,  remembered  from  the  evening 
fireside,  it  seems  cold  and  desolate,  whilst  you 
cower  over  the  coals ;  but,  once  abroad  again,  we 
pity  those  who  can  forego  the  magnificence  of 
nature,  for  candle-light  and  cards.  Perhaps  the 
true  subject  of  the  " Conjugal  Love"  is  Conver- 
sation, whose  laws  are  profoundly  eliminated.  It 
is  false,  if  literally  applied  to  marriage.  For  God 
is  the  bride  or  bridegroom  of  the  soul.  Heaven 
is  not  the  pairing  of  two,  but  the  communion  of 
all  souls.  We  meet,  and  dwell  an  instant  under 
the  temple  of  one  thought,  and  part  as  though  we 
parted  not,  to  join  another  thought  in  other  fel- 
lowships of  joy.  So  far  from  there  being  any 
thing  divine  in  the  low  and  proprietary  sense  of 
Do  you  love  me  ?  it  is  only  when  you  leave  and 
lose  me,  by  casting  yourself  on  a  sentiment  which 
is  higher  than  both  of  us,  that  I  draw  near,  and 
find  myself  at  your  side ;  and  I  am  repelled,  if 
you  fix  your  eye  on  me,  and  demand  love.  In 
fact,  in  the  spiritual  world,  we  change  sexes 
every  moment.  You  love  the  worth  in  me  ;  then 
I  am  your  husband :  but  it  is  not  me,  but  the 
worth,  that  fixes  the  love  ;  and  that  worth  is  a 
drop  of  the  ocean  of  worth  that  is  beyond  me. 


130  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

Meantime,  I  adore  the  greater  worth  in  another, 
and  so  become  his  wife.  He  aspires  to  a  higher 
worth  in  another  spirit,  and  is  wife  or  receiver  of 
that  influence. 

Whether  a  self-inquisitorial  habit,  that  he  grew 
into,  from  jealousy  of  the  sins  to  which  men  of 
thought  are  liable,  he  has  acquired,  in  disentan- 
gling and  demonstrating  that  particular  form  of 
moral  disease,  an  acumen  which  no  conscience 
can  resist.  I  refer  to  his  feeling  of  the  profanation 
of  thinking  to  what  is  good  "from  scientifics." 
"  To  reason  about  faith,  is  to  doubt  and  deny." 
He  was  painfully  alive  to  the  difference  between 
knowing  and  doing,  and  this  sensibility  is  inces- 
santly expressed.  Philosophers  are,  therefore, 
vipers,  cockatrices,  asps,  hemorrhoids,  presters, 
and  flying  serpents  ;  literary  men  are  conjurors 
and  charlatans. 

But  this  topic  suggests  a  sad  afterthought,  that 
here  we  find  the  seat  of  his  own  pain.  Possibly 
Swedenborg  paid  the  penalty  of  introverted  fac- 
ulties. Success,  or  a  fortunate  genius,  seems  to 
depend  on  a  happy  adjustment  of  heart  and  brain  ; 
on  a  due  proportion,  hard  to  hit,  of  moral  and 
mental  power,  which,  perhaps,  obeys  the  law  of 
those  chemical  ratios  which  make  a  proportion  in 
volumes  necessary  to  combination,  as  when  gases 


131 

will  combine  in  certain  fixed  rates,  but  not  at  any 
rate.  It  is  hard  to  carry  a  full  Gup  :  and  this  man^ 
profusely  endowed  in  heart  and  mind,  early  fell  into 
dangerous  discord  with  himself.  In  his  Animal 
Kingdom,  he  surprised  us,  by  declaring  that  he 
loved  analysis,  and  not  synthesis ;  and  now,  after 
his  fiftieth  year,  he  falls  into  jealousy  of  his  intel- 
lect ;  and,  though  aware  that  truth  is  not  solitary 5 
nor  is  goodness  solitary,  but  both  must  ever  mix 
and  marry,  he  makes  war  on  his  mind,  takes  the 
part  of  the  conscience  against  it,  and,  on  all  occa- 
sions, traduces  and  blasphemes  it.  The  violence 
is  instantly  avenged.  Beauty  is  disgraced,  love 
is  unlovely,  when  truth,  the  half  part  of  heaven, 
is  denied,  as  much  as  when  a  bitterness  in  men 
of  talent  leads  to  satire,  and  destroys  the  judgment. 
He  is  wise,  but  wise  in  his  own  despite.  There 
is  an  air  of  infinite  grief,  and  the  sound  of  wail- 
ing, all  over  and  through  this  lurid  universe.  A 
vampyre  sits  in  the  seat  of  the  prophet,  and  turns 
with  gloomy  appetite  to  the  images  of  pain.  In- 
deed, a  bird  does  not  more  readily  weave  its  nest, 
or  a  mole  bore  into  the  ground,  than  this  seer  of 
the  souls  substructs  a  new  hell  and  pit,  each  more 
abominable  than  the  last,  round  every  new  crew 
of  offenders.  He  was  let  down  through  a  column 
that  seemed  of  brass,  but  it  was  formed  of  an- 
gelic spirits,  that  he  might  descend  safely  amongst 


132  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  unhappy,  and  witness  the  vastation  of  souls ; 
and  heard  there,  for  a  long  continuance,  their 
lamentations  ;  he  saw  their  tormentors,  who  in- 
crease and  strain  pangs  to  infinity ;  he  saw  the 
hell  of  the  jugglers,  the  hell  of  the  assassins,  the 
hell  of  the  lascivious ;  the  hell  of  robbers,  who 
kill  and  boil  men ;  the  infernal  tun  of  the  deceit- 
ful ;  the  excrementitious  hells ;  the  hell  of  the 
revengeful,  whose  faces  resembled  a  round,  broad 
cake,  and  their  arms  rotate  like  a  wheel.  Except 
Rabelais  and  Dean  Swift,  nobody  ever  had  such 
science  of  filth  and  corruption. 

These  books  should  be  used  with  caution.  It 
is  dangerous  to  sculpture  these  evanescing  images 
of  thought.  True  in  transition,  they  become 
false  if  fixed.  It  requires,  for  his  just  apprehen- 
sion, almost  a  genius  equal  to  his  own.  But  when 
his  visions  become  the  stereotyped  language  of 
multitudes  of  persons,  of  all  degrees  of  age  and 
capacity,  they  are  perverted.  The  wise  people 
of  the  Greek  race  were  accustomed  to  lead  the 
most  intelligent  and  virtuous  young  men,  as  part, 
of  their  education,  through  the  Eleusinian  mys- 
teries, wherein,  with  much  pomp  and  graduation, 
the  highest  truths  known  to  ancient  wisdom  were 
taught.  An  ardent  and  contemplative  young  man, 
at  eighteen  or  twenty  years,  might  read  once 
these  books  of  Swedenborg,  these  mysteries  of 


SWEDENBOKG  ;    OK,   TH£   MYSTIC.  133 

love  and  conscience,  and  then  throw  them  aside 
for  ever.  Genius  is  ever  haunted  by  similar 
dreams,  when  the  hells  and  the  heavens  are 
opened  to  it.  But  these  pictures  are  to  be  held 
as  mystical,  that  is,  as  a  quite  arbitrary  and  acci- 
dental picture  of  the  truth,  —  not  as  the  truth. 
Any  other  symbol  would  be  as  good :  then  this 
is  safely  seen. 

Swedenborg's  system  of  the  world  %vants  cen- 
tral spontaneity  j  it  is  dynamic,  not  vital,  and 
lacks  power  to  generate  life,  There  is  no  indi- 
vidual in  it.  The  universe  is  a  gigantic  crystal, 
all  whose  atoms  and  laminae  lie  in  uninterrupted 
order,  and  with  unbroken  unity,  but  cold  and 
still.  What  seems  an  individual  and  a  will,  is 
none.  There  is  an  immense  chain  of  inter- 
mediation, extending  from  centre  to  extremes, 
which  bereaves  every  agency  of  all  freedom  and 
character.  The  universe,  in  his  poem,  suffers 
under  a  magnetic  sleep,  and  only  reflects  the 
mind  of  the  magnetizer.  Every  thought  comes 
into  each  mind  by  influence  from  a  society  of 
spirits  that  surround  it,  and  into  these  from  a 
higher  society,  and  so  on.  All  his  types  mean  the 
same  few  things.  All  his  figures  speak  one 
speech.  All  his  interlocutors  Swedenborgise, 
Be  they  who  they  may,  to  this  complexion  must 
12 


134  RE?IlESEN,rATIVE    MEN. 

they  come  at  last.  This  Charon  ferries  them  all 
over  in  his  boat ;  kings,  counsellors,  cavaliers,  doc- 
tors, Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  King 
George  II.,  Mahomet,  or  whosoever,  and  all  gather 
one  grimness  of  hue  and  style.  Only  when  Cicero 
comes  by,  our  gentle  seer  sticks  a  little  at  saying 
he  talked  with  Cicero,  and,  with  a  touch  of 
human  relenting,  remarks,  "  one  whom  it  was 
given  me  to  believe  was  Cicero ;  "  and  when  the 
soi  disant  Roman  opens  his  mouth,  Rome  and 
eloquence  have  ebbed  away,  —  it  is  plain  the- 
ologic  Swedenborg,  like  the  rest.  His  heavens 
and  hells  are  dull ;  fault  of  want  of  individualism. 
The  thousand-fold  relation  of  men  is  not  there. 
The  interest  that  attaches  in  nature  to  each  man, 
because  he  is  right  by  his  wrong,  and  wrong  by 
his  right,  because  he  defies  all  dogmatising  and 
classification,  so  many  allowances,  and  contin- 
gences,  and  futurities,  are  to  be  taken  into  ac- 
count, strong  by  his  vices,  often  paralysed  by  his 
virtues,  —  sinks  into  entire  sympathy  with  his 
society.  This  want  reacts  to  the  centre  of  the 
system.  Though  the  agency  of  "  the  Lord  "  is 
in  every  line  referred  to  by  name,  it  never 
becomes  alive.  There  is  no  lustre  in  that  eye 
which  gazes  from  the  centre,  and  which  should 
vivify  the  immense  dependency  of  beings. 

The  vice  of  Swedenborg's  mind  is  its  theologic 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  135 

determination.  Nothing  with  him  has  the  liberal- 
ity of  universal  wisdom,  but  we  are  always  in  a 
church.  That  Hebrew  muse,  which  taught  the 
lore  of  right  and  wrong  to  men,  had  the  same 
excess  of  influence  for  him,  it  has  had  for  the 
nations.  The  mode,  as  well  as  the  essence,  was 
sacred.  Palestine  is  ever  the  more  valuable  as  a 
chapter  in  universal  history,  and  ever  the  less  an 
available  element  in  education.  The  genius  of 
Swedenborg,  largest  of  all  modern  souls  in  this 
department  of  thought,  wasted  itself  in  the 
endeavor  to  reanimate  and  conserve  what  had 
already  arrived  at  its  natural  term,  and,  in  the 
great  secular  Providence,  was  retiring  from  its 
prominence,  before  western  modes  of  thought 
and  expression.  Swedenborg  and  Behmen  both 
failed  by  attaching  themselves  to  the  Christian 
symbol,  instead  of  to  the  moral  sentiment,  which 
carries  innumerable  Christianities,  humanities, 
divinities,  in  its  bosom. 

The  excess  of  influence  shows  itself  in  the 
incongruous  inportation  of  a  foreign  rhetoric. 
'What  have  I  to  do,'  asks  the  impatient  reader, 
'  with  jasper  and  sardonyx,  beryl  and  chalcedony  ; 
what  with  arks  and  passovers,  ephahs  and 
ephods  ;  what  with  lepers  and  emerods  ;  what 
with  heave-offerings  and  unleavened  bread  ; 
chariots   of  fire,  dragons   crowned    and   horned, 


138  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

behemoth  and  unicorn  ?  Good  for  orientals,  these 
are  nothing  to  me.  The  more  learning  you  bring 
to  explain  them,  the  more  glaring  the  imper- 
tinence. The  more  coherent  and  elaborate  the 
system,  the  less  I  like  it.  I  say,  with  the  Spartan, 
"  Why  do  you  speak  so  much  to  the  purpose,  of 
that  which  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  ?  "  My  learn- 
ing is  such  as  God  gave  me  in  my  birth  and  habit, 
in  the  delight  and  study  of  my  eyes,  and  not  of 
another  man's.  Of  all  absurdities,  this  of  some 
foreigner,  proposing  to  take  away  my  rhetoric, 
and  substitute  his  own,  and  amuse  me  with  peli- 
can and  stork,  instead  of  thrush  and  robin  ;  palm- 
trees  and  shittim-wood,  instead  of  sassafras  and 
hickory,  —  seems  the  most  needless.' 

Locke  said,  "  God,  when  he  makes  the  prophet, 
does  not  unmake  the  man."  Swedenborg's  his- 
tory points  the  remark.  The  parish  disputes,  in 
the  Swedish  church,  between  the  friends  and  foes 
of  Luther  and  Melancthon,  concerning  "  faith 
alone,"  and  "works  alone,"  intrude  themselves 
into  his  speculations  upon  the  economy  of  the 
universe,  and  of  the  celestial  societies.  The 
Lutheran  bishop's  son,  for  whom  the  heavens  are 
opened,  so  that  he  sees  with  eyes,  and  in  the  rich- 
est symbolic  forms,  the  awful  truth  of  things,  and 
utters  again,  in  his  books,  as  under  a  heavenly 
mandate,  the  indisputable  secrets  of  moral  nature, 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,   THE    MYSTIC.  137 

—  with  all  these  grandeurs  resting  upon  him,  re- 
mains the  Lutheran  bishop's  son  ;  his  judgments 
are  those  of  a  Swedish  polemic,  and  his  vast  en- 
largements purchased  by  adamantine  limitations. 
He  carries  his  controversial  memory  with  him,  in 
his  visits  to  the  souls.  He  is  like  Michel  Angelo, 
who,  in  his  frescoes,  put  the  cardinal  who  had 
offended  him  to  roast  under  a  mountain  of  devils  ; 
or,  like  Dante,  who  avenged,  in  vindictive  melo- 
dies, all  his  private  wrongs  ;  or,  perhaps  still  more 
like  Montaigne's  parish  priest,  who,  if  a  hail-storm 
passes  over  the  village,  thinks  the  day  of  doom  is 
come,  and  the  cannibals  already  have  got  the  pip. 
Swedenborg  confounds  us  not  less  with  the  pains 
of  Melancthon,  and  Luther,  and  Wolfius,  and  his 
own  books,  which  he  advertises  among  the  angels. 
Under  the  same  theologic  cramp,  many  of  his 
dogmas  are  bound.  His  cardinal  position  in 
morals  is,  that  evils  should  be  shunned  as  sins. 
But  he  does  not  know  what  evil  is,  or  what  good 
is,  who  thinks  any  ground  remains  to  be  occupied, 
after  saying  that  evil  is  to  be  shunned  as  evil.  I 
doubt  not  he  was  led  by  the  desire  to  insert  the 
element  of  personality  of  Deity.  But  nothing  is 
added.  One  man,  you  say,  dreads  erysipelas,  — 
show  him  that  this  dread  is  evil :  or,  one  dreads 
hell,  —  show  him  that  dread  is  evil.  He  who 
loves  goodness,  harbors  angels,  reveres  reverence, 
12* 


138  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  lives  with  God.  The  less  we  have  to  do  with 
our  sins,  the  better.  No  man  ean  afford  to  waste 
his  moments  in  compunctions.  "  That  is  active 
duty,"  say  the  Hindoos,  "which  is  not  for  our 
bondage  ;  that  is  knowledge,  which  is  for  our  lib- 
eration :  all  other  duty  is  good  only  unto  weari- 
ness." 

Another  dogma,  growing  out  of  this  pernicious 
theologic  limitation,  is  this  Inferno.  Swedenborg 
has  devils.  Evil,  according  to  old  philosophers, 
is  good  in  the  making.  That  pure  malignity  can 
exist,  is  the  extreme  proposition  of  unbelief.  It 
is  not  to  be  entertained  by  a  rational  agent  ;  it  is 
atheism ;  it  is  the  last  profanation.  Euripides 
rightly  said,  — 

*'  Goodness  and  being  in  the  gods  are  one  ; 

He  who  imputes  ill  to  them  makes  them  none." 

To  what  a  painful  perversion  had  Gothic  the- 
ology arrived,  that  Swedenborg  admitted  no  con- 
version for  evil  spirits!  But  the  divine  effort  is 
never  relaxed  ;  the  carrion  in  the  sun  will  convert 
itself  to  grass  and  flowers :  and  man,  though  in 
brothels,  or  jails,  or  on  gibbets,  is  on  his  way  to 
all  that  is  good  and  true.  Burns,  with  the  wild 
humor  of  his  apostrophe  to  "  poor  old  Nickie  Ben," 

"  O  wad  ye  tak  a  thought,  and  mend  !  " 


swedenborg;  or,  the  mystic.  139 

has  the  advantage  of  the  vindictive  theologian. 
Every  thing  is  superficial,  and  perishes,  but  love 
and  truth  only.  The  largest  is  always  the  truest 
sentiment,  and  we  feel  the  more  generous  spirit 
of  the  Indian  Vishnu,  — "  1  am  the  same  to  all 
mankind.  There  is  not  one  who  is  worthy  of  my 
love  or  hatred.  They  who  serve  me  with  adora- 
tion, —  I  am  in  them,  and  they  in  me.  If  one 
whose  ways  are  altogether  evil,  serve  me  alone,  he 
is  as  respectable  as  the  just  man  ;  he  is  altogether 
well  employed  ;  he  soon  becometh  of  a  virtuous 
spirit,  and  obtaineth  eternal  happiness." 

For  the  anomalous  pretension  of  Revelations 
of  the  other  world,  —  only  his  probity  and  genius 
can  entitle  it  to  any  serious  regard.  His  revela- 
tions destroy  their  credit  by  running  into  detail. 
If  a  man  say,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  has  informed 
him  that  the  Last  Judgment,  (or  the  last  of  the 
judgments,)  took  place  in  1757;  or,  that  the 
Dutch,  in  the  other  world,  live  in  a  heaven  by 
themselves,  and  the  English,  in  a  heaven  by 
themselves ;  I  reply,  that  the  Spirit  which  is 
holy,  is  reserved,  taciturn,  and  deals  in  laws. 
The  rumors  of  ghosts  and  hobgoblins  gossip 
and  tell  fortunes.  The  teachings  of  the  high 
Spirit  are  abstemious,  and,  in  regard  to  particu- 
lars, negative.  Socrates's  Genius  did  not  advise 
him  to  act  or  to  find,  but  if  he  purposed  to  do 


140  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

somewhat  not  advantageous,  it  dissuaded  him. 
"What  God  is,"  he  said,  "I  know  not;  what  he 
is  not,  I  know."  The  Hindoos  have  denominated 
the  Supreme  Being,  the  "  Internal  Check."  The 
illuminated  Quakers  explained  their  Light,  not  as 
somewhat  which  leads  to  any  action,  but  it  ap- 
pears as  an  obstruction  to  any  thing  unfit.  But 
the  right  examples  are  private  experiences,  which 
are  absolutely  at  one  on  this  point.  Strictly 
speaking,  Swedenborg's  revelation  is  a  confound- 
ing of  planes,  —  a  capital  offence  in  so  learned 
a  categorist.  This  is  to  carry  the  law  of  surface 
into  the  plane  of  substance,  to  carry  individual- 
ism and  its  fopperies  into  the  realm  of  essences 
and  generals,  which  is  dislocation  and  chaos. 

The  secret  of  heaven  is  kept  from  age  to  age. 
No  imprudent,  no  sociable  angel  ever  dropt  an 
early  syllable  to  answer  the  longings  of  saints, 
the  fears  of  mortals.  We  should  have  listened 
on  our  knees  to  any  favorite,  who,  by  stricter 
obedience,  had  brought  his  thoughts  into  parallel- 
ism with  the  celestial  currents,  and  could  hint  to 
human  ears  the  scenery  and  circumstance  of  the 
newly  parted  soul.  But  it  is  certain  that  it  must 
tally  with  what  is  best  in  nature.  It  must  not 
be  inferior  in  tone  to  the  already  known  works 
of  the  artist  who  sculptures  the  globes  of  the 
firmament,  and  writes  the  moral  law.     It  must 


SWEDENBORG  J    OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  141 

be  fresher  than  rainbows,  stabler  than  mountains, 
agreeing  with  flowers,  with  tides,  and  the  rising 
and  setting  of  autumnal  stars.  Melodious  poets 
shall  be  hoarse  as  street  ballads,  when  once  the 
penetrating  key-note  of  nature  and  spirit  is 
sounded,  —  the  earth-beat,  sea-beat,  heart-beat, 
which  makes  the  tune  to  which  the  sun  rolls, 
and  the  globule  of  blood,  and  the  sap  of  trees. 

In  this  mood,  we  hear  the  rumor  that  the  seer 
has  arrived,  and  his  tale  is  told.  But  there  is  no 
beauty,  no  heaven :  for  angels,  goblins.  The 
sad  muse  loves  night  and  death,  and  the  pit. 
His  Inferno  is  mesmeric.  His  spiritual  world 
bears  the  same  relation  to  the  generosities  and 
joys  of  truth,  of  which  human  souls  have  already 
made  us  cognisant,  as  a  man's  bad  dreams  bear  to 
his  ideal  life.  It  is  indeed  very  like,  in  its  end- 
less power  of  lurid  pictures,  to  the  phenomena 
of  dreaming,  which  nightly  turns  many  an  honest 
gentleman,  benevolent,  but  dyspeptic,  into  a 
wretch,  skulking  like  a  dog  about  the  outer  yards 
and  kennels  of  creation.  When  he  mounts  into 
the  heaven,  I  do  not  hear  its  language.  A  man 
should  not  tell  me  that  he  has  walked  among  the 
angels ;  his  proof  is,  that  his  eloquence  makes 
me  one.  Shall  the  archangels  be  less  majestic 
and  sweet  than  the  figures  that  have  actually 
walked  the  earth?     These  angels  that  Sweden- 


142  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

borg  paints  give  us  no  very  high  idea  of  their 
discipline  and  culture  :  they  are  all  country  par- 
sons :  their  heaven  is  a  fete  champetre,  an  evan- 
gelical picnic,  or  French  distribution  of  prizes 
to  virtuous  peasants.  Strange,  scholastic,  didac- 
tic, passionless,  bloodless  man,  who  denotes  classes 
of  souls  as  a  botanist  disposes  of  a  carex,  and 
visits  doleful  hells  as  a  stratum  of  chalk  or  horn- 
blende !  He  has  no  sympathy.  He  goes  up  and 
down  the  world  of  men,  a  modern  Rhadaman- 
thus  in  gold-headed  cane  and  peruke,  and  with 
nonchalance,  and  the  air  of  a  referee,  distributes 
souls.  The  warm,  many-weathered,  passionate- 
peopled  world  is  to  him  a  grammar  of  hiero- 
glyphs, or  an  emblematic  freemason's  procession. 
How  different  is  Jacob  Behmen  !  he  is  tremulous 
with  emotion,  and  listens  awe-struck,  with  the 
gentlest  humanity,  to  the  Teacher  whose  lessons 
he  conveys ;  and  when  he  asserts  that,  "  in  some 
sort,  love  is  greater  than  God,"  his  heart  beats  so 
high  that  the  thumping  against  his  leathern  coat 
is  audible  across  the  centuries.  7Tis  a  great 
difference.  Behmen  is  healthily  and  beautifully 
wise,  notwithstanding  the  mystical  narrowness 
and  incommunicableness.  Swedenborg  is  dis- 
agreeably wise,  and,  with  all  his  accumulated 
gifts,  paralyzes  and  repels. 

It  is  the  best  sign  of  a  great  nature,  that  it 


OR,    THE    MYSTIC.  143 

opens  a  foreground,  and,  like  the  breath  of  morn- 
ing landscapes,  invites  us  onward.  Swedenborg 
is  retrospective,  nor  can  we  divest  him  of  his 
mattock  and  shroud.  Some  minds  are  for  ever 
restrained  from  descending  into  nature ;  others 
are  for  ever  prevented  from  ascending  out  of  it. 
With  a  force  of  many  men,  he  could  never  break 
the  umbilical  cord  which  held  him  to  ^.nature,  and 
he  did  not  rise  to  the  platform  of  pure  genius. 

It  is  remarkable  that  this  man,  who,  by  his  per- 
ception of  symbols,  saw  the  poetic  construction 
of  things,  and  the  primary  relation  of  mind  to 
matter,  remained  entirely  devoid  of  the  whole 
apparatus  of  poetic  expression,  which  that  percep- 
tion creates.  He  knew  the  grammar  and  rudiments 
of  the  Mother-Tongue, — how  could  he  not  read  off 
one  strain  into  music  ?  Was  he  like  Saadi,  who, 
in  his  vision,  designed  to  fill  his  lap  with  the  ce- 
lestial flowers,  as  presents  for  his  friends ;  but  the 
fragrance  of  the  roses  so  intoxicated  him,  that  the 
skirt  dropped  from  his  hands  ?  or,  is  reporting  a 
breach  of  the  manners  of  that  heavenly  society  ? 
or,  was  it  that  he  saw  the  vision  intellectually,  and 
hence  that  chiding  of  the  intellectual  that  per- 
vades his  books  ?  Be  it  as  it  may,  his  books  have 
no  melody,  no  emotion,  no  humor,  no  relief  to  the 
dead  prosaic  level.  In  his  profuse  and  accurate 
imagery  is  no  pleasure,  for  there  is  no  beauty. 


144  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN". 

We  wander  forlorn  in  a  lack-lustre  landscape. 
No  bird  ever  sang  in  all  these  gardens  of  the  dead. 
The  entire  want  of  poetry  in  so  transcendent 
a  mind  betokens  the  disease,  and,  like  a  hoarse 
voice  in  a  beautiful  person,  is  a  kind  of  warning. 
I  think,  sometimes,  he  will  not  be  read  longer. 
His  great  name  will  turn  a  sentence.  His  books 
have  become  a  monument.  His  laurel  so  largely 
mixed  with  cypress,  a  charnel-breath  so  mingles 
with  the  temple  incense,  that  boys  and  maids  will 
shun  the  spot. 

Yet,  in  this  immolation  of  genius  and  fame  at 
the  shrine  of  conscience,  is  a  merit  sublime  beyond 
praise.  He  lived  to  purpose  :  he  gave  a  verdict. 
He  elected  goodness  as  the  clue  to  which  the  soul 
must  cling  in  all  this  labyrinth  of  nature.  Many 
opinions  conflict  as  to  the  true  centre.  In  the 
shipwreck,  some  cling  to  running  rigging,  some 
to  cask  and  barrel,  some  to  spars,  some  to  mast  ; 
the  pilot  chooses  with  science,  —  I  plant  myself 
here  ;  all  will  sink  before  this  ;  "  he  comes  to  land 
who  sails  with  me."  Do  not  rely  on  heavenly 
favor,  or  on  compassion  to  folly,  or  on  prudence, 
on  common  sense,  the  old  usage  and  main  chance 
of  men:  nothing  can  keep  you,  —  not  fate,  nor 
health,  nor  admirable  intellect ;  none  can  keep  you, 
but  rectitude  only,  rectitude  for  ever  and  ever !  — 
and,  with  a  tenacity  that  never  swerved  in  all  his 


145 


studies,  inventions,  dreams,  he  adheres  to  this 
brave  choice.  I  think  of  him  as  of  some  trans- 
migrating votary  of  Indian  legend,  who  says, 
1  though  I  be  dog,  or  jackal,  or  pismire,  in  the  last 
rudiments  of  nature,  under  what  integument  or 
ferocity,  I  cleave  to  right,  as  the  sure  ladder  that 
leads  up  to  man  and  to  God.' 

Swedenborg  has  rendered  a  double  service  to 
mankind,  which  is  now  only  beginning  to  be 
known.  By  the  science  of  experiment  and  use, 
he  made  his  first  steps  :  he  observed  and  published 
the  laws  of  nature  ;  and,  ascending  by  just  de- 
grees, from  events  to  their  summits  and  causes,  he 
was  fired  with  piety  at  the  harmonies  he  felt,  and 
abandoned  himself  to  his  joy  and  worship.  This 
was  his  first  service.  If  the  glory  was  too  bright 
for  his  eyes  to  bear,  if  he  staggered  under  the 
trance  of  delight,  the  more  excellent  is  the  spec- 
tacle he  saw,  the  realities  of  being  which  beam 
and  blaze  through  him,  and  which  no  infirmities 
of  the  prophet  are  suffered  to  obscure ;  and  he 
renders  a  second  passive  service  to  men,  not  less 
than  the  first,  —  perhaps,  in  the  great  circle  of 
being,  and  in  the  retributions  of  spiritual  nature, 
not  less  glorious  or  less  beautiful  to  himself. 
13 


MONTAIGNE; 

OE, 

THE   SKEPTIC- 


IV. 

MONTAIGNE;    OR,  THE  SKEPTIC 


Every  fact  is  related  on  one  side  to  sensation, 
and,  on  the  other,  to  morals.  The  game  of 
thought  is,  on  the  appearance  of  one  of  these 
two  sides,  to  find  the  other  ;  given  the  upper,  to 
find  the  under  side.  Nothing  so  thin,  but  has 
these  two  faces  ;  and,  when  the  observer  has  seen 
the  obverse,  he  turns  it  over  to  see  the  reverse. 
Life  is  a  pitching  of  this  penny,  —  heads  or  tails. 
We  never  tire  of  this  game,  because  there  is  still 
a  slight  shudder  of  astonishment  at  the  exhibition 
of  the  other  face,  at  the  contrast  of  the  two  faces. 
A  man  is  flushed  with  success,  and  bethinks  hin> 
self  what  this  good  luck  signifies.  He  drives  his 
bargain  in  the  street ;  but  it  occurs,  that  he  also 
is  bought  and  sold.  He  sees  the  beauty  of  a 
human  face,  and  searches  the  cause  of  that 
beauty,  which  must  be  more  beautiful.  He 
builds  his  fortunes,  maintains  the  laws,  cherishes 
13* 


150  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

his  children ;  but  he  asks  himself,  why  ?  and 
whereto  ?  This  head  and  this  tail  are  called,  in 
the  language  of  philosophy,  Infinite  and  Finite  ; 
Relative  and  Absolute ;  Apparent  and  Real ;  and 
many  fine  names  beside. 

Each  man  is  born  with  a  predisposition  to  one 
or  the  other  of  these  sides  of  nature ;  and,  it  will 
easily  happen  that  men  will  be  found  devoted  to 
one  or  the  other.  One  class  has  the  perception 
of  difference,  and  is  conversant  with  facts  and 
surfaces  ;  cities  and  persons ;  and  the  bringing 
certain  things  to  pass  ;  —  the  men  of  talent  and 
action.  Another  class  have  the  perception  of 
identity,  and  are  men  of  faith  and  philosophy, 
men  of  genius. 

Each  of  these  riders  drives  too  fast.  Plotinus 
believes  only  in  philosophers  ;  Fenelon,  in  saints  ; 
Pindar  and  Byron,  in  poets.  Read  the  haughty 
language  in  which  Plato  and  the  Platonists  speak 
of  all  men  who  are  not  devoted  to  their  own 
shining  abstractions  :  other  men  are  rats  and 
mice.  The  literary  class  is  usually  proud  and 
exclusive.  The  correspondence  of  Pope  and 
Swift  describes  mankind  around  them  as  mon- 
sters ;  and  that  of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  in  our 
own  time,  is  scarcely  more  kind. 

It  is  easy  to  see  how  this  arrogance  comes. 
The  genius  is  a  genius  by  the  first  look  he  casts 


OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  151 

on  any  object.  Is  his  eye  creative  ?  Does  he 
not  rest  in  angles  and  colors,  but  beholds  the 
design,  —  he  will  presently  undervalue  the  actual 
object.  In  powerful  moments,  his  thought  has 
dissolved  the  works  of  art  and  nature  into  their 
causes,  so  that  the  works  appear  heavy  and 
faulty.  He  has  a  conception  of  beauty  which 
|  the  sculptor  cannot  embody.  Picture,  statue, 
/  temple,  railroad,  steam-engine,  existed  first  in  an 
/  artist's  mind,  without  flaw,  mistake,  or  friction, 
which  impair  the  executed  models.  So  did  the 
church,  the  state,  college,  court,  social  circle,  and 
all  the  institutions.  It  is  not  strange  that  these 
men,  remembering  what  they  have  seen  and 
hoped  of  ideas,  should  affirm  disdainfully  the 
superiority  of  ideas.  Having  at  some  time  seen 
that  the  happy  soul  will  carry  all  the  arts  in 
power,  they  say,  Why  cumber  ourselves  with 
superfluous  realizations  ?  and,  like  dreaming  beg- 
gars, they  assume  to  speak  and  act  as  if  these 
values  were  already  substantiated. 

On  the  other  part,  the  men  of  toil  and  trade 
and  luxury,  —  the  animal  world,  including  the 
animal  in  the  philosopher  and  poet  also,  —  and 
the  practical  world,  including  the  painful  drudg- 
eries which  are  never  excused  to  philosopher  or 
poet  any  more  than  to  the  rest, — weigh  heavily  on 
the  other  side.     The  trade  in  our  streets  believes 


15%  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

in  no  metaphysical  causes,  thinks  nothing  of 
the  force  which  necessitated  traders  and  a  trading 
planet  to  exist :  no,  but  sticks  to  cotton,  sugar, 
wool,  and  salt.  The  ward  meetings,  on  election 
days,  are  not  softened  by  any  misgiving  of  the 
value  of  these  ballotings.  Hot  life  is  streaming 
in  a  single  direction.  To  the  men  of  this  world,  to 
the  animal  strength  and  spirits,  to  the  men  of 
practical  power,  whilst  immersed  in  it,  the  man 
of  ideas  appears  out  of  his  reason.  They  alone 
have  reason. 

Things  always  bring  their  own  philosophy 
with  them,  that  is,  prudence.  No  man  acquires 
property  without  acquiring  with  it  a  little  arith- 
metic, also.  In  England,  the  richest  country  that 
ever  existed,  property  stands  for  more,  compared 
with  personal  ability,  than  in  any  other.  After 
dinner,  a  man  believes  less,  denies  more  :  verities 
have  lost  some  charm.  After  dinner,  arithmetic 
is  the  only  science :  ideas  are  disturbing,  incendi- 
ary, follies  of  young  men,  repudiated  by  the  solid 
portion  of  society :  and  a  man  comes  to  be  val- 
ued by  his  athletic  and  animal  qualities.  Spence 
relates,  that  Mr.  Pope  was  with  Sir  Godfrey 
Kneller,  one  day,  when  his  nephew,  a  Guinea 
trader,  came  in.  "  Nephew,"  said  Sir  Godfrey, 
"  you  have  the  honor  of  seeing  the  two  greatest 
men  in  the  world."     "I  don't  know  how  great 


MONTAIGNE  J  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       153 

men  you  may  be,"  said  the  Guinea  man,  "but  I 
don't  like  your  looks.  I  have  often  bought  a 
man  much  better  than  both  of  you,  all  muscles 
and  bones,  for  ten  guineas."  Thus,  the  men  of 
the  senses  revenge  themselves  on  the  professors, 
and  repay  scorn  for  scorn.  The  first  had  leaped 
to  conclusions  not  yet  ripe,  and  say  more  than  is 
true  ;  the  others  make  themselves  merry  with  the 
philosopher,  and  weigh  man  by  the  pound.  — ■ 
They  believe  that  mustard  bites  the  tongue, 
that  pepper  is  hot,  friction-matches  are  incendiary  > 
revolvers  to  be  avoided,  and  suspenders  hold  up 
pantaloons  ;  that  there  is  much  sentiment  in  a 
chest  of  tea ;  and  a  man  will  be  eloquent,  if  you 
give  him  good  wine.  Are  you  tender  and  scru- 
pulous,—  you  must  eat  more  mince-pie.  They 
hold  that  Luther  had  milk  in  him  when  he  said, 

""Wer  nieht  liebt  "Wein,  Wei^und  Gesang, 
Der  bleibt  ein.  Narr  sein  Leben  lang ; " 

and  when  he  advised  a  young  scholar,  perplexed 
with  fore-ordination  and  free-will,  to  get  well 
drunk.  "  The  nerves,"  says  Cabanis,  "  they  are 
the  man."  My  neighbor,  a  jolly  farmer,  in  the 
tavern  bar-room,  thinks  that  the  use  of  money 
is  sure  and  speedy  spending.  "  For  his  part," 
he  says,  "he  puts  his  down  his  neck,  and  gets 
the  good  of  it." 


154  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

The  inconvenience  of  this  way  of  thinking  is, 
that  it  runs  into  indifferentism,  and  then  into 
disgust.  Life  is  eating  us  up.  We  shall  be 
fables  presently.  Keep  cool :  it  will  be  all  one 
a  hundred  years  hence.  Life's  well  enough  ;  but 
we  shall  be  glad  to  get  out  of  it,  and  they  will 
all  be  glad  to  have  us.  Why  should  we  fret  and 
drudge  ?  Our  meat  will  taste  to-morrow  as  it 
did  yesterday,  and  we  may  at  last  have  had 
enough  of  it.  "Ah,"  said  my  languid  gentle- 
man at  Oxford,  "  there's  nothing  new  or  true,  — 
and  no  matter." 

With  a  little  more  bitterness,  the  cynic  moans  : 
our  life  is  like  an  ass  led  to  market  by  a  bundle 
of  hay  being  carried  before  him :  he  sees  nothing 
but  the  bundle  of  hay.  "  There  is  so  much 
trouble  in  coming  into  the  world,"  said  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  "and  so  much  more,  as  well  as 
meanness,  in  going  out  of  it,  that  'tis  hardly 
worth  while  to  be  here  at  all."  I  knew  a  phi- 
losopher of  this  kidney,  who  was  accustomed 
briefly  to  sum  up  his  experience  of  human  nature 
in  saying,  "  Mankind  is  a  damned  rascal :  "  and 
the  natural  corollary  is  pretty  sure  to  follow, — 
i  The  world  lives  by  humbug,  and  so  will  I.' 

The  abstractionist  and  the  materialist  thus 
mutually  exasperating  each  other,  and  the  scoffer 
expressing  the  worst  of  materialism,  there  arises 


W5 

a  third  party  to  occupy  the  middle  ground  be- 
tween these  two,  the  skeptic,  namely.  He  finds 
both  wrong  by  being  in  extremes.  He  labors 
to  plant  his  feet,  to  be  the  beam  of  the  balance. 
He  will  not  go  beyond  his  card.  He  sees  the 
one-sidedness  of  these  men  of  the  street ;  he  will 
not  be  a  Gibeonite  ;  he  stands  for  the  intellectual 
faculties,  a  cool  head,  and  whatever  serves  to 
keep  it  cool :  no  unadvised  industry,  no  unre- 
warded self-devotion,  no  loss  of  the  brains  in  toil. 
Am  I  an  ox,  or  a  dray  ?  —  You  are  both  in  ex- 
tremes, he  says.  You  that  will  have  all  solid, 
and  a  world  of  pig-lead,  deceive  yourselves  gross- 
ly. You  believe  yourselves  rooted  and  grounded 
on  adamant  ,*  and  yet,  if  we  uncover  the  last  facts 
of  our  knowledge,  you  are  spinning  like  bubbles 
in  a  river,  you  know  not  whither  or  whence,  and 
you  are  bottomed  and  capped  and  wrapped  in 
delusions. 

Neither  will  he  be  betrayed  to  a  book,  andTN 
wrapped  in  a  gown.  The  studious  class  are  their 
own  victims :  they  are  thin  and  pale,  their  feet 
are  cold,  their  heads  are  hot,  the  night  is  without 
sleep,  the  day  a  fear  of  interruption,  —  pallor, 
squalor,  hunger,  and  egotism.  If  you  come  near 
them,  and  see  what  conceits  they  entertain, — 
they  are  abstractionists,  and  spend  their  days  and 
nights  in  dreaming  some  dream ;  in  expecting  the 


156  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

homage  of  society  to  some  precious  scheme  built 
on  a  truth,  but  destitute  of  proportion  in  its  pre- 
sentment, of  justness  in  its  application,  and  of  all 
energy  of  will  in  the  schemer  to  embody  and 
vitalize  it. 

But  I  see  plainly,  he  says,  that  I  cannot  see.  I 
know  that  human  strength  is  not  in  extremes,  but 
in  avoiding  extremes.  I,  at  least,  will  shun  the 
weakness  of  philosophizing  beyond  my  depth. 
What  is  the  use  of  pretending  to  powers  we  have 
not  ?  What  is  the  use  of  pretending  to  assurances 
we  have  not,  respecting  the  other  life  ?  Why  ex- 
aggerate the  power  of  virtue  ?  Why  be  an  angel 
before  your  time  ?  These  strings,  wound  up  too 
high,  will  snap.  If  there  is  a  wish  for  immortal- 
ity, and  no  evidence,  why  not  say  just  that  ?  If 
there  are  conflicting  evidences,  why  not  state 
them  ?  If  there  is  not  ground  for  a  candid  thinker 
to  make  up  his  mind,  yea  or  nay,  —  why  not  sus- 
pend the  judgment  ?  I  weary  of  these  dogma- 
tizers.  I  tire  of  these  hacks  of  routine,  who  deny 
the  dogmas.  I  neither  affirm  nor  deny.  I  stand 
here  to  try  the  case.  I  am  here  to  consider, 
Cxstttsjv,  to  consider  how  it  is.  I  will  try  to 
keep  the  balance  true.  Of  what  use  to  take  the 
chair,  and  glibly  rattle  off  theories  of  society, 
religion,  and  nature,  when  I  know  that  practical 
objections  lie  in  the  way,  insurmountable  by  me 


montaigne;  or,  the  skeptic.  157 

and  by  my  mates  ?  Why  so  talkative  in  public, 
when  each  of  my  neighbors  can  pin  me  to  my 
seat  by  arguments  I  cannot  refute  ?  Why  pretend 
that  life  is  so  simple  a  game,  when  we  know  how 
subtle  and  elusive  the  Proteus  is  ?  Why  think  to 
shut  up  all  things  in  your  narrow  coop,  when  we 
know  there  are  not  one  or  two  only,  but  ten, 
twenty,  a  thousand  things,  and  unlike  ?  Why 
fancy  that  you  have  all  the  truth  in  your  keeping  ? 
There  is  much  to  say  on  all  sides. 

Who  shall  forbid  a  wise  skepticism,  seeing  that 
there  is  no  practical  question  on  which  any  thing 
more  than  an  approximate  solution  can  be  had  ? 
Is  not  marriage  an  open  question,  when  it  is 
alleged,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  that 
such  as  are  in  the  institution  wish  to  get  out,  and 
such  as  are  out  wish  to  get  in  ?  And  the  reply  of 
Socrates,  to  him  who  asked  whether  he  should 
choose  a  wife,  still  remains  reasonable,  "that, 
whether  he  should  choose  one  or  not,  he  would 
repent  it."  Is  not  the  state  a  question?  All  so- 
ciety is  divided  in  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the 
state.  Nobody  loves  it ;  great  numbers  dislike  it, 
and  suffer  conscientious  scruples  to  allegiance : 
and  the  only  defence  set  up,  is,  the  fear  of  doing 
worse  in  disorganizing.  Is  it  otherwise  with  the 
church?  Or,  to  put  any  of  the  questions  which 
touch  mankind  nearest,  —  shall  the  young  man  aim 
14 


158  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

at  a  leading  part  in  law,  in  politics,  in  trade  ?  It 
will  not  be  pretended  that  a  success  in  either  of 
these  kinds  is  quite  coincident  with  what  is  best 
and  inmost  in  his  mind.  Shall  he,  then,  cutting 
the  stays  that  hold  him  fast  to  the  social  state, 
put  out  to  sea  with  no  guidance  but  his  genius  ? 
There  is  much  to  say  on  both  sides.  Remember 
the  open  question  between  the  present  order  of 
" competition,"  and  the  friends  of  "attractive  and 
associated  labor."  The  generous  minds  embrace 
the  proposition  of  labor  shared  by  all ;  it  is  the 
only  honesty  ;  nothing  else  is  safe.  It  is  from  the 
poor  man's  hut  alone,  that  strength  and  virtue 
come  :  and  yet,  on  the  other  side,  it  is  alleged  that 
labor  impairs  the  form,  and  breaks  the  spirit  of 
man,  and  the  laborers  cry  unanimously,  '  We  have 
no  thoughts.'  Culture,  how  indispensable !  I 
cannot  forgive  you  the  want  of  accomplishments  ; 
and  yet,  culture  will  instantly  destroy  that  chiefest 
beauty  of  spontaneousness.  Excellent  is  culture 
for  a  savage  ;  but  once  let  him  read  in  the  book, 
and  he  is  no  longer  able  not  to  think  of  Plutarch's 
heroes.  In  short,  since  true  fortitude  of  under- 
standing consists  "  in  not  letting  what  we  know 
be  embarrassed  by  what  we  do  not  know,"  we 
ought  to  secure  those  advantages  which  we  can 
command,  and  not  risk  them  by  clutching  after 
the  airy  and  unattainable.     Come,  no  chimeras ! 


MONTAIGNE  J  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       159 

Let  us  go  abroad ;  let  us  mix  in  affairs ;  let  us 
learn,  and  get,  and  have,  and  climb.  "  Men  are  a 
sort  of  moving  plants,  and,  like  trees,  receive  a 
great  part  of  their  nourishment  from  the  air.  If 
they  keep  too  much  at  home,  they  pine."  Let 
us  have  a  robust,  manly  life ;  let  us  know  what 
we  know,  for  certain  ;  what  we  have,  let  it  be 
solid,  and  seasonable,  and  our  own.  A  world  in 
the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush.  Let  us  have 
to  do  with  real  men  and  women,  and  not  with 
skipping  ghosts. 

This,  then,  is  the  right  ground  of  the  skeptic,  — 
this  of  consideration,  of  self-containing  ;  not  at  all 
of  unbelief;  not  at  all  of  universal  denying,  nor 
of  universal  doubting,  —  doubting  even  that  he 
doubts  ;  least  of  all,  of  scoffing  and  profligate  jeer- 
ing at  all  that  is  stable  and  good.  These  are  no 
more  his  moods  than  are  those  of  religion  and 
philosophy.  He  is  the  considerer,  the  prudent, 
taking  in  sail,  counting  stock,  husbanding  his 
means,  believing  that  a  man  has  too  many  en- 
emies, than  that  he  can  afford  to  be  his  own ; 
that  we  can  not  give  ourselves  too  many  advan- 
tages, in  this  unequal  conflict,  with  powers  so 
vast  and  unweariable  ranged  on  one  side,  and 
this  little,  conceited,  vulnerable  popinjay  that  a 
man  is,  bobbing  up  and  down  into  every  danger, 
on  the  other.     It  is  a  position  taken  up  for  better 


160  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

defence,  as  of  more  safety,  and  one  that  can  be 
maintained ;  and  it  is  one  of  more  opportunity 
and  range :  as,  when  we  build  a  house,  the  rule 
is,  to  set  it  not  too  high  nor  too  low,  under  the 
wind,  but  out  of  the  dirt. 

The  philosophy  we  want  is  one  of  fluxions 
and  mobility.  The  Spartan  and  Stoic  schemes 
are  too  stark  and  stiff  for  our  occasion.  A  theory 
of  Saint  John,  and  of  nonresistance,  seems,  on 
the  other  hand,  too  thin  and  aerial.  We  want 
some  coat  woven  of  elastic  steel,  stout  as  the 
first,  and  limber  as  the  second.  We  want  a  ship 
in  these  billows  we  inhabit.  An  angular,  dog- 
matic house  would  be  rent  to  chips  and  splinters, 
in  this  storm  of  many  elements.  No,  it  must  be 
tight,  and  fit  to  the  form  of  man,  to  live  at  all  ; 
as  a  shell  is  the  architecture  of  a  house  founded 
on  the  sea.  The  soul  of  man  must  be  the  type 
of  our  scheme,  just  as  the  body  of  man  is  the 
type  after  which  a  dwelling-house  is  built. 
Adaptiveness  is  the  peculiarity  of  human  nature. 
We  are  golden  averages,  volitant  stabilities,  com- 
pensated or  periodic  errors,  houses  founded  on 
the  sea.  The  wise  skeptic  wishes  to  have  a 
near  view  of  the  best  game,  and  the  chief  play- 
ers ;  what  is  best  in  the  planet ;  art  and  nature, 
places  and  events,  but  mainly  men.  Every  thing 
that  is  excellent  in  mankind,  —  a  form  of  grace,  an 


MONTAIGNE  ]    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  161 

arm  of  iron,  lips  of  persuasion,  a  brain  of  re- 
sources, every  one  skilful  to  play  and  win,  —  he 
will  see  and  judge. 

The  terms  of  admission  to  this  spectacle,  are, 
that  he  have  a  certain  solid  and  intelligible  way 
of  living  of  his  own ;  some  method  of  answering 
the  inevitable  needs  of  human  life  ;  proof  that 
he  has  played  with  skill  and  success ;  that  he 
has  evinced  the  temper,  stoutness,  and  the  range 
of  qualities  which,  among  his  contemporaries  and 
countrymen,  entitle  him  to  fellowship  and  trust. 
For,  the  secrets  of  life  are  not  shown  except  to 
sympathy  and  likeness.  Men  do  not  confide 
themselves  to  boys,  or  coxcombs,  or  pedants,  but 
to  their  peers.  Some  wise  limitation,  as  the 
modern  phrase  is  ;  some  condition  between  the 
extremes,  and  having  itself  a  positive  quality ; 
some  stark  and  sufficient  man,  who  is  not  salt  or 
sugar,  but  sufficiently  related  to  the  world  to  do 
justice  to  Paris  or  London,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
a  vigorous  and  original  thinker,  whom  cities  can 
not  overawe,  but  who  uses  them,  —  is  the  fit 
person   to    occupy   this   ground    of    speculation. 

These  qualities  meet  in  the  character  of  Mon- 
taigne. And  yet,  since  the  personal  regard  which 
I  entertain  for  Montaigne  may  be  unduly  great, 
1  will,  under  the  shield  of  this  prince  of  egotists, 
offer,  as  an  apology  for  electing  him  as  the  repre- 
14* 


162  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

sentative  of  skepticism,  a  word  or  two  to  explain 
how  my  love  began  and  grew  for  this  admirable 
gossip. 

A  single  odd  volume  of  Cotton's  translation  of 
the  Essays  remained  to  me  from  my  father's 
library,  when  a  boy.  It  lay  long  neglected,  until, 
after  many  years,  when  I  was  newly  escaped  from 
college,  I  read  the  book,  and  procured  the  remain- 
ing volumes.  I  remember  the  delight  and  won- 
der in  which  I  lived  with  it.  It  seemed  to  me  as 
if  I  had  myself  written  the  book,  in  some  former 
life,  so  sincerely  it  spoke  to  my  thought  and  ex- 
perience. It  happened,  when  in  Paris,  in  1833, 
that,  in  the  cemetery  of  Pere  le  Chaise,  I  came  to 
a  tomb  of  Auguste  Collignon,  who  died  in  1830, 
aged  sixty-eight  years,  and  who,  said  the  monu- 
ment, "  lived  to  do  right,  and  had  formed  himself 
to  virtue  on  the  Essays  of  Montaigne."  Some 
years  later,  I  became  acquainted  with  an  accom- 
plished English  poet,  John  Sterling  ;  and,  in  prose- 
cuting my  correspondence,  I  found  that,  from  a 
love  of  Montaigne,  he  had  made  a  pilgrimage  to 
his  chateau,  still  standing  near  Castellan,  in  Peri- 
gord,  and,  after  two  hundred  and  fifty  years,  had 
copied  from  the  walls  of  his  library  the  inscriptions 
which  Montaigne  had  written  there.  That  Jour- 
nal of  Mr.  Sterling's,  published  in  the  West- 
minster Review,  Mr.  Hazlitt  has  reprinted  in  the 


;    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  163 

Prolegomena  to  his  edition  of  the  Essays.  I 
heard  with  pleasure  that  one  of  the  newly-discov- 
ered autographs  of  William  Shakspeare  was  in  a 
copy  of  Florio's  translation  of  Montaigne.  It  is 
the  only  book  which  we  certainly  know  to  have 
been  in  the  poet's  library.  And,  oddly  enough,  the 
duplicate  copy  of  Florio,  which  the  British  Muse- 
um purchased,  with  a  view  of  protecting  the 
Shakspeare  autograph,  (as  I  was  informed  in  the 
Museum,)  turned  out  to  have  the  autograph  of 
Ben  Jonson  in  the  fly-leaf.  Leigh  Hmit  relates 
of  Lord  Byron,  that  Montaigne  was  the  only  great 
writer  of  past  times  whom  he  read  with  avowed 
satisfaction.  Other  coincidences,  not  needful  to 
be  mentioned  here,  concurred  to  make  this  old 
Gascon  still  new  and  immortal  for  me. 

In  1571,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  Montaigne, 
then  thirty-eight  years  old,  retired  from  the  prac- 
tice of  law,  at  Bordeaux,  and  settled  himself  on  his 
estate.  Though  he  had  been  a  man  of  pleasure, 
and  sometimes  a  courtier,  his  studious  habits  now 
grew  on  him,  and  he  loved  the  compass,  staidness, 
and  independence,  of  the  country  gentleman's 
life.  He  took  up  his  economy  in  good  earnest, 
and  made  his  farms  yield  the  most.  Downright 
and  plain-dealing,  and  abhorring  to  be  deceived  or 
lo  deceive,  he  was  esteemed  in  the  country  for  his 
sense   and   probity.      In   the   civil  wars   of  the 


164  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

League,  which  converted  every  house  into  a  fort, 
Montaigne  kept  his  gates  open,  and  his  house 
without  defence.  All  parties  freely  came  and 
went,  his  courage  and  honor  being  universally 
esteemed.  The  neighboring  lords  and  gentry 
brought  jewels  and  papers  to  him  for  safe-keep- 
ing. Gibbon  reckons,  in  these  bigoted  times,  but 
two  men  of  liberality  in  France,  —  Henry  IV". 
and  Montaigne. 

Montaigne  is  the  frankest  and  honestest  of  all 
writers.  His  French  freedom  runs  into  grossness  ; 
but  he  has  anticipated  all  censure  by  the  bounty 
of  his  own  confessions.  In  his  times,  books 
were  written  to  one  sex  only,  and  almost  all 
were  written  in  Latin  ;  so  that,  in  a  humorist,  a 
certain  nakedness  of  statement  was  permitted, 
which  our  manners,  of  a  literature  addressed 
equally  to  both  sexes,  do  not  allow.  But,  though 
a  biblical  plainness,  coupled  with  a  most  un- 
canonical  levity,  may  shut  his  pages  to  many 
sensitive  readers,  yet  the  offence  is  superficial. 
He  parades  it :  he  makes  the  most  of  it :  nobody 
can  think  or  say  worse  of  him  than  he  does.  He 
pretends  to  most  of  the  vices  ;  and,  if  there  be 
any  virtue  in  him,  he  says,  it  got  in  by  stealth. 
There  is  no  man,  in  his  opinion,  who  has  not 
deserved  hanging  five  or  six  times  ;  and  he  pre- 
tends no  exception  in  his  own  behalf.     "  Five  or 


MONTAIGNE  ;    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  165 

six  as  ridiculous  stories,"  too,  he  says,  "  can  be 
told  of  me,  as  of  any  man  living."  But,  with 
all  this  really  superfluous  frankness,  the  opinion 
of  an  invincible  probity  grows  into  every  reader's 
mind. 

"  When  I  the  most  strictly  and  religiously 
confess  myself,  I  find  that  the  best  virtue  I  have 
has  in  it  some  tincture  of  vice  ;  and  I  am  afraid 
that  Plato,  in  his  purest  virtue,  (I,  who  am  as 
sincere  and  perfect  a  lover  of  virtue  of  that  stamp 
as  any  other  whatever,)  if  he  had  listened,  and 
laid  his  ear  close  to  himself,  would  have  heard 
some  jarring  sound  of  human  mixture  ;  but  faint 
and  remote,  and  only  to  be  perceived  by  him- 
self." 

Here  is  an  impatience  and  fastidiousness  at 
color  or  pretence  of  any  kind.  He  has  been  in 
courts  so  long  as  to  have  conceived  a  furious  dis- 
gust at  appearances  ;  he  will  indulge  himself  with 
a  little  cursing  and  swearing  ;  he  will  talk  with 
sailors  and  gipsies,  use  flash  and  street  ballads  : 
he  has  stayed  in-doors  till  he  is  deadly  sick  ;  he 
will  to  the  open  air,  though  it  rain  bullets.  He 
has  seen  too  much  of  gentlemen  of  the  long 
robe,  until  he  wishes  for  cannibals ;  and  is  so 
nervous,  by  factitious  life,  that  he  thinks,  the 
more  barbarous  man  is,  the  better  he  is.  He 
likes  his  saddle.     You  may  read  theology,  and 


166  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

grammar,  and  metaphysics  elsewhere.  Whatever 
you  get  here,  shall  smack  of  the  earth  and  of 
real  life,  sweet,  or  smart,  or  stinging.  He  makes 
no  hesitation  to  entertain  you  with  the  records 
of  his  disease  ;  and  his  journey  to  Italy  is  quite 
full  of  that  matter.  He  took  and  kept  this 
position  of  equilibrium.  Over  his  name,  he  drew 
an  emblematic  pair  of  scales,  and  wrote  Que  sgais 
je  ?  under  it.  As  I  look  at  his  effigy  opposite 
the  title-page,  I  seem  to  hear  him  say,  '  You  may 
play  old  Poz,  if  you  will ;  you  may  rail  and  exag- 
gerate,— I  stand  here  for  truth,  and  will  not,  for 
all  the  states,  and  churches,  and  revenues,  and 
personal  reputations  of  Europe,  overstate  the  dry 
fact,  as  I  see  it ;  I  will  rather  mumble  and  prose 
about  what  I  certainly  know, — my  house  and 
barns ;  my  father,  my  wife,  and  my  tenants ;  my 
old  lean  bald  pate ;  my  knives  and  forks ;  what 
meats  I  eat,  and  what  drinks  I  prefer;  and  a 
hundred  straws  just  as  ridiculous,  —  than  I  will 
write,  with  a  fine  crow-quill,  a  fine  romance.  I 
like  gray  days,  and  autumn  and  winter  weather. 
I  am  gray  and  autumnal  myself,  and  think  an 
undress,  and  old  shoes  that  do  not  pinch  my  feet, 
and  old  friends  who  do  not  constrain  me,  and 
plain  topics  where  I  do  not  need  to  strain  myself 
and  pump  my  brains,  the  most  suitable.  Our 
condition  as  men  is  risky  and  ticklish  enough. 


MONTAIGNE  J    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  167 

One  can  not  be  sure  of  himself  and  his  fortune 
an  hour,  but  he  may  be  whisked  off  into  some 
pitiable  or  ridiculous  plight.  Why  should  I 
vapor  and  play  the  philosopher,  instead  of  ballast- 
ing, the  best  I  can,  this  dancing  balloon  ?  So,  at 
least,  I  live  within  compass,  keep  myself  ready 
for  action,  and  can  shoot  the  gulf,  at  last,  with 
decency.  If  there  be  any  thing  farcical  in  such 
a  life,  the  blame  is  not  mine :  let  it  lie  at  fate's 
and  nature's  door.' 

The  Essays,  therefore,  are  an  entertaining 
soliloquy  on  every  random  topic  that  comes  into 
his  head  •  treating  every  thing  without  ceremony, 
yet  with  masculine  sense.  There  have  been  men 
with  deeper  insight ;  but,  one  would  say,  never 
a  man  with  such  abundance  of  thoughts :  he  is 
never  dull,  never  insincere,  and  has  the  genius  to 
make  the  reader  care  for  all  that  he  cares  for. 

The  sincerity  and  marrow  of  the  man  reaches 
to  his  sentences.  I  know  not  any  where  the 
book  that  seems  less  written.  It  is  the  language 
of  conversation  transferred  to  a  book.  Cut  these 
words,  and  they  would  bleed ;  they  are  vascular 
and  alive.  One  has  the  same  pleasure  in  it  that 
we  have  in  listening  to  the  necessary  speech  of 
men  about  their  work,  when  any  unusual  cir- 
cumstance gives  momentary  importance  to  the 
dialogue.     For  blacksmiths  and  teamsters  do  not 


168  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

trip  in  their  speech  ;  it  is  a  shower  of  bullets.  It 
is  Cambridge  men  who  correct  themselves,  and 
begin  again  at  every  half  sentence,  and,  more- 
over, will  pun,  and  refine  too  much,  and  swerve 
from  the  matter  to  the  expression.  Montaigne 
talks  with  shrewdness,  knows  the  world,  and 
books,  and  himself,  and  uses  the  positive  degree : 
never  shrieks,  or  protests,  or  prays :  no  weakness, 
no  convulsion,  no  superlative :  does  not  wish  to 
jump  out  of  his  skin,  or  play  any  antics,  or  anni- 
hilate space  or  time  ;  but  is  stout  and  solid ;  tastes 
every  moment  of  the  day  ;  likes  pain,  because  it 
makes  him  feel  himself,  and  realize  things  ;  as  we 
pinch  ourselves  to  know  that  we  are  awake.  He 
keeps  the  plain  ;  he  rarely  mounts  or  sinks  ;  likes 
to  feel  solid  ground,  and  the  stones  underneath. 
His  writing  has  no  enthusiasms,  no  aspiration ; 
contented,  self-respecting,  and  keeping  the  middle 
of  the  road.  There  is  but  one  exception,  —  in 
his  love  for  Socrates.  In  speaking  of  him,  for 
once  his  cheek  flushes,  and  his  style  rises  to 
passion. 

Montaigne  died  of  a  quinsy,  at  the  age  of 
sixty,  in  1592.  When  he  came  to  die,  he  caused 
the  mass  to  be  celebrated  in  his  chamber.  At 
the  age  of  thirty-three,  he  had  been  married. 
"  But,"  he  says,  "  might  I  have  had  my  own 
will,  I  would,  not  have  married  Wisdom  herself, 


MONTAIGNE  ]    OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       169 

if  she  would  have  had  me :  but  'tis  to  much 
purpose  to  evade  it,  the  common  custom  and  use 
of  life  will  have  it  so.  Most  of  my  actions  are 
guided  by  example,  not  choice."  In  the  hour 
of  death,  he  gave  the  same  weight  to  custom. 
Que  sgais  je  ?     What  do  I  know  ? 

This  book  of  Montaigne  the  world  has  en- 
dorsed, by  translating  it  into  all  tongues,  and 
printing  seventy-five  editions  of  it  in  Europe : 
and  that,  too,  a  circulation  somewhat  chosen, 
namely,  among  courtiers,  soldiers,  princes,  men 
of  the  world,  and  men  of  wit  and  generosity. 

Shall  we  say  that  Montaigne  has  spoken  wise- 
ly, and  given  the  right  and  permanent  expression 
of  the  human  mind,  on  the  conduct  of  life  ? 

We  are  natural  believers.  Truth,  or  the  con- 
nection between  cause  and  effect,  alone  interests 
us.  We  are  persuaded  that  a  thread  runs  through 
all  things :  all  worlds  are  strung  on  it,  as  beads : 
and  men,  and  events,  and  life,  come  to  us,  only 
because  of  that  thread :  they  pass  and  repass, 
only  that  Ave  may  know  the  direction  and  con- 
tinuity of  that  line.  A  book  or  statement  which 
goes  to  show  that  there  is  no  line,  but  random 
and  chaos,  a  calamity  out  of  nothing,  a  pros- 
perity and  no  account  of  it,  a  hero  born  from  a 
15 


170  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

fool,  a  fool  from  a  hero, — dispirits  us.  Seen  or 
unseen,  we  believe  the  tie  exists.  Talent  makes 
counterfeit  ties ;  genius  finds  the  real  ones.  We 
hearken  to  the  man  of  science,  because  we  anti- 
cipate the  sequence  in  natural  phenomena  which 
he  uncovers.  We  Love  whatever  affirms,  con- 
nects, preserves  ;  and  dislike  what  scatters  or  pulls 
down.  One  man  appears  whose  nature  is  to  all 
men's  eyes  conserving  and  constructive  :  his 
presence  supposes  a  well-ordered  society,  agricul- 
ture, trade,  large  institutions,  and  empire.  If 
these  did  not  exist,  they  would  begin  to  exist 
through  his  endeavors.  Therefore,  he  cheers  and 
comforts  men,  who  feel  all  this  in  him  very 
readily.  The  nonconformist  and  the  rebel  say 
all  manner  of  unanswerable  things  against  the 
existing  republic,  but  discover  to  our  sense  no 
plan  of  house  or  state  of  their  own.  Therefore, 
though  the  town,  and  state,  and  way  of  living, 
which  our  counsellor  contemplated,  might  be  a 
very  modest  or  musty  prosperity,  yet  men  rightly 
go  for  him,  and  reject  the  reformer,  so  long  as 
he  comes  only  with  axe  and  crowbar. 

But  though  we  are  natural  conservers  and  caus- 
ationists,  and  reject  a  sour,  dumpish  unbelief,  the 
skeptical  class,  which  Montaigne  represents,  have 
reason,  and  every  man,  at  some  time,  belongs  to 
it.     Every  superior  mind  will  pass  through  this 


MONTAIGNE  J  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       171 

domain  of  equilibration,  —  I  should  rather  say, 
will  know  how  to  avail  himself  of  the  checks 
and  balances  in  nature,  as  a  natural  weapon 
against  the  exaggeration  and  formalism  of  bigots 
and  blockheads. 

Skepticism  is  the  attitude  assumed  by  the 
student  in  relation  to  the  particulars  which  so- 
ciety adores,  but  which  he  sees  to  be  reverend 
only  in  their  tendency  and  spirit.  The  ground 
occupied  by  the  skeptic  is  the  vestibule  of  the 
temple.  Society  does  not  like  to  have  any 
breath  of  question  blown  on  the  existing  order. 
But  the  interrogation  of  custom  at  all  points  is  an 
inevitable  stage  in  the  growth  of  every  superior 
mind,  and  is  the  evidence  of  its  perception  of 
the  flowing  power  which  remains  itself  in  all 
changes. 

The  superior  mind  will  find  itself  equally  at 
odds  with  the  evils  of  society,  and  with  the 
projects  that  are  offered  to  relieve  them.  The 
wise  skeptic  is  a  bad  citizen  :  no  conservative  ; 
he  sees  the  selfishness  of  property,  and  the  drowsi- 
ness of  institutions.  But  neither  is  he  fit  to  work 
with  any  democratic  party  that  ever  was  con- 
stituted;  for  parties  wish  everyone  committed, 
and  he  penetrates  the  popular  patriotism.  His 
politics  are  those  of  the  "Soul's  Errand"  of  Sir 
Walter   Raleigh  ;    or    of    Krishna,    in   the   Bha- 


172  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

gavat,  "  There  is  none  who  is  worthy  of  my 
love  or  hatred ;  "  whilst  he  sentences  law,  physic, 
divinity,  commerce,  and  custom.  He  is  a  re- 
former :  yet  he  is  no  better  member  of  the  phi- 
lanthropic association.  It  turns  out  that  he  is 
not  the  champion  of  the  operative,  the  pauper, 
the  prisoner,  the  slave.  It  stands  in  his  mind, 
that  our  life  in  this  world  is  not  of  quite  so 
easy  interpretation  as  churches  and  school-books 
say.  He  does  not  wish  to  take  ground  against 
these  benevolences,  to  play  the  part  of  devil's 
attorney,  and  blazon  every  doubt  and  sneer  that 
darkens  the  sun  for  him.  But  he  says,  There 
are  doubts. 

I  mean  to  use  the  occasion,  and  celebrate  the 
calendar-day  of  our  Saint  Michel  de  Montaigne, 
by  counting  and  describing  these  doubts  or  ne- 
gations. I  wish  to  ferret  them  out  of  their  holes, 
and  sun  them  a  little.  We  must  do  with  them  as 
the  police  do  with  old  rogues,  who  are  shown  up 
to  the  public  at  the  marshal's  office.  They  will 
never  be  so  formidable,  when  once  they  have 
been  identified  and  registered.  But  I  mean  hon- 
estly by  them,  —  that  justice  shall  be  done  to  their 
terrors.  I  shall  not  take  Sunday  objections,  made 
up  on  purpose  to  be  put  down.  I  shall  take  the 
worst  I  can  find,  whether  I  can  dispose  of  them, 
or  they  of  me. 


MONTAIGNE  J  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       173 

I  do  not  press  the  skepticism  of  the  materialist. 
I  know,  the  quadruped  opinion  will  not  prevail. 
5Tis  of  no  importance  what  bats  and  oxen  think. 
The  first  dangerous  symptom  I  report,  is,  the  levity 
of  intellect ;  as  if  it  were  fatal  to  earnestness  to 
know  much.  Knowledge  is  the  knowing  that  we 
can  not  know.  The  dull  pray  ;  the  geniuses  are 
light  mockers.  How  respectable  is  earnestness  on 
every  platform !  but  intellect  kills  it.  Nay,  San 
Carlo,  my  subtle  and  admirable  friend,  one  of  the 
most  penetrating  of  men,  finds  that  all  direct  as- 
cension, even  of  lofty  piety,  leads  to  this  ghastly 
insight,  and  sends  back  the  votary  orphaned.  My 
astonishing  San  Carlo  thought  the  lawgivers  and 
saints  infected.  They  found  the  ark  empty  ;  saw, 
and  would  not  tell ;  and  tried  to  choke  off  their 
approaching  followers,  by  saying,  '  Action,  action, 
my  dear  fellows,  is  for  you ! '  Bad  as  was  to 
me  this  detection  by  San  Carlo,  this  frost  in  July, 
this  blow  from  a  bride,  there  was  still  a  worse, 
namely,  the  cloy  or  satiety  of  the  saints.  In  the 
mount  of  vision,  ere  they  have  yet  risen  from  their 
knees,  they  say,  '  We  discover  that  this  our  homage 
and  beatitude  is  partial  and  deformed :  we  must 
fly  for  relief  to  the  suspected  and  reviled  Intellect, 
to  the  Understanding,  the  Mephistopheles,  to  the 
gymnastics  of  talent.' 

This  is  hobgoblin  the  first ;  and,  though  it 
15* 


174  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

has  been  the  subject  of  much  elegy,  in  our 
nineteenth  century,  from  Byron,  Goethe,  and 
other  poets  of  less  fame,  not  to  mention  many 
distinguished  private  observers,  —  I  confess  it  is 
not  very  aifecting  to  my  imagination  ;  for  it  seems 
to  concern  the  shattering  of  baby-houses  and 
crockery-shops.  What  nutters  the  church  of 
Rome,  or  of  England,  or  of  Geneva,  or  of  Boston, 
may  yet  be  very  far  from  touching  any  principle 
of  faith.  I  think  that  the  intellect  and  moral 
sentiment  are  unanimous  ;  and  that,  though 
philosophy  extirpates  bugbears,  yet  it  supplies  the 
natural  checks  of  vice,  and  polarity  to  the  soul. 
I  think  that  the  wiser  a  man  is,  the  more  stupen- 
dous he  finds  the  natural  and  moral  economy, 
and  lifts  himself  to  a  more  absolute  reliance. 

There  is  the  power  of  moods,  each  setting  at 
nought  all  but  its  own  tissue  of  facts  and  beliefs. 
There  is  the  power  of  complexions,  obviously 
modifying  the  dispositions  and  sentiments.  The 
beliefs  and  unbeliefs  appear  to  be  structural ;  and, 
as  soon  as  each  man  attains  the  poise  and  vivacity 
which  allow  the  whole  machinery  to  play,  he 
will  not  need  extreme  examples,  but  will  rapidly 
alternate  all  opinions  in  his  own  life.  Our  life  is 
March  weather,  savage  and  serene  in  one  hour. 
We  go  forth  austere,  dedicated,  believing  in 
the  iron  links  of  Destiny,  and  will  not  turn  on 


MONTAIGNE  ]    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  175 

our  heel  to  save  our  life :  but  a  book,  or  a  bust, 
or  only  the  sound  of  a  name,  shoots  a  spark 
through  the  nerves,  and  we  suddenly  believe  in 
will :  my  finger-ring  shall  be  the  seal  of  Sol- 
omon :  fate  is  for  imbeciles :  all  is  possible  to 
the  resolved  mind.  Presently,  a  new  experience 
gives  a  new  turn  to  our  thoughts  :  common 
sense  resumes  its  tyranny  :  we  say,  '  Well,  the 
army,  after  all,  is  the  gate  to  fame,  manners,  and 
poetry  :  and,  look  you,  —  on  the  whole,  selfishness 
plants  best,  prunes  best,  makes  the  best  com- 
merce, and  the  best  citizen.'  Are  the  opinions 
of  a  man  on  right  and  wrong,  on  fate  and  causa- 
tion, at  the  mercy  of  a  broken  sleep  or  an  indiges- 
tion ?  Is  his  belief  in  God  and  Duty  no  deeper 
than  a  stomach  evidence  ?  And  what  guaranty 
for  the  permanence  of  his  opinions  ?  I  like  not 
the  French  celerity,  —  a  new  ehurch  and  state 
once  a  week. — This  is  the  second  negation  ;  and 
I  shall  let  it  pass  for  what  it  will.  As  far  as  it 
asserts  rotation  of  states  of  mind,  I  suppose  it 
suggests  its  own  remedy,  namely,  in  the  record 
of  larger  periods.  What  is  the  mean  of  many 
states  ;  of  all  the  states  ?  Does  the  general  voice 
of  ages  affirm  any  principle,  or  is  no  community 
of  sentiment  discoverable  in  distant  times  and 
places  ?  And  when  it  shows  the  power  of  self- 
interest,  I  accept   that  as  part  of  the  divine  law, 


176  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  must  reconcile  it  with  aspiration  the  best  I 
can. 

The  word  Fate,  or  Destiny,  expresses  the 
sense  of  mankind,  in  all  ages, — that  the  laws  of 
the  world  do  not  always  befriend,  but  often  hurt 
and  crush  us.  Fate,  in  the  shape  of  Kinde  or 
nature,  grows  over  us  like  grass.  We  paint  Time 
with  a  scythe  ;  Love  and  Fortune,  blind  ;  and 
Destiny,  deaf.  We  have  too  little  power  of 
resistance  against  this  ferocity  which  champs  us 
up.  What  front  can  we  make  against  these 
unavoidable,  victorious,  maleficent  forces  ?  What 
can  I  do  against  the  influence  of  Race,  in  my 
history  ?  What  can  I  do  against  hereditary  and 
constitutional  habits,  against  scrofula,  lymph,  im- 
potence ?  against  climate,  against  barbarism,  in 
my  country  ?  I  can  reason  down  or  deny  every 
thing,  except  this  perpetual  Belly :  feed  he  must 
and  will,  and  I  cannot  make  him  respectable. 

But  the  main  resistance  which  the  affirmative 
impulse  finds,  and  one  including  all  others,  is  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  Illusionists.  There  is  a  pain- 
ful rumor  in  circulation,  that  we  have  been 
practised  upon  in  all  the  principal  performances 
of  life,  and  free  agency  is  the  emptiest  name. 
We  have  been  sopped  and  drugged  with  the  air, 
with    food,    with    woman,    with   children,    with 


MONTAIGNE  ]    OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.       177 

sciences,  with  events,  which  leave  us  exactly 
where  they  found  us.  The  mathematics,  'tis 
complained,  leave  the  mind  where  they  find  it : 
so  do  all  sciences  ;  and  so  do  all  events  and  actions. 
I  find  a  man  who  has  passed  through  all  the 
sciences,  the  churl  he  was  ;  and,  through  all  the 
offices,  learned,  civil,  and  social,  can  detect 
the  child.  We  are  not  the  less  necessitated  to 
dedicate  life  to  them.  In  fact,  we  may  come  to 
accept  it  as  the  fixed  rule  and  theory  of  our  state 
of  education,  that  God  is  a  substance,  and  his 
method  is  illusion.  The  eastern  sages  owned 
the  goddess  Yoganidra,  the  great  illusory  energy 
of  Vishnu,  by  whom,  as  utter  ignorance,  the 
whole  world  is  beguiled. 

Or,  shall  I  state  it  thus  ?  —  The  astonishment 
of  life,  is,  the  absence  of  any  appearance  of  re- 
conciliation between  the  theory  and  practice  of 
life.  Reason,  the  prized  reality,  the  Law,  is  ap- 
prehended, now  and  then,  for  a  serene  and  pro- 
found moment,  amidst  the  hubbub  of  cares  and 
works  which  have  no  direct  bearing  on  it ;  —  is 
then  lost,  for  months  or  years,  and  again  found, 
for  an  interval,  to  be  lost  again.  If  we  compute 
it  in  time,  we  may,  in  fifty  years,  have  half  a 
dozen  reasonable  hours.  But  what  are  these 
cares  and  works  the  better  ?  A  method  in  the 
world  we  do  not  see,  but  this  parallelism  of  great 


178  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  little,  which  never  react  on  each  other,  nor 
discover  the  smallest  tendency  to  converge.  Ex- 
periences, fortunes,  govemings,  readings,  writings, 
are  nothing  to  the  purpose  ;  as  when  a  man  comes 
into  the  room,  it  does  not  appear  whether  he  has 
been  fed  on  yams  or  buffalo,  —  he  has  contrived 
to  get  so  much  bone  and  fibre  as  he  wants,  out 
of  rice  or  out  of  snow.  So  vast  is  the  dispropor- 
tion between  the  sky  of  law  and  the  pismire  of 
performance  under  it,  that,  whether  he  is  a  man 
of  worth  or  a  sot,  is  not  so  great  a  matter  as  we 
say.  Shall  I  add,  as  one  juggle  of  this  enchant- 
ment, the  stunning  non-intercourse  law  which 
makes  cooperation  impossible  ?  The  young  spirit 
pants  to  enter  society.  But  all  the  ways  of  cul- 
ture and  greatness  lead  to  solitary  imprisonment. 
He  has  been  often  baulked.  He  did  not  expect  a 
sympathy  with  his  thought  from  the  village,  but 
he  went  with  it  to  the  chosen  and  intelligent,  and 
found  no  entertainment  for  it,  but  mere  misappre- 
hension, distaste,  and  scoffing.  Men  are  strangely 
mistimed  and  misapplied ;  and  the  excellence  of 
each  is  an  inflamed  individualism  which  separates 
him  more. 

There  are  these,  and  more  than  these  diseases 
of  thought,  which  our  ordinary  teachers  do  not 
attempt  to  remove.  Now  shall  we,  because  a  good 
nature  inclines  us  to  virtue's  side,  say,  There  are 


MONTAIGNE  J  OR,  THE  SKEPTIC.        179 

no  doubts,  —  and  lie  for  the  right  ?  Is  life  to  be 
led  in  a  brave  or  in  a  cowardly  manner  ?  and  is 
not  the  satisfaction  of  the  doubts  essential  to  ail 
manliness  ?  Is  the  name  of  virtue  to  be  a  barrier 
to  that  which  is  virtue  ?  Can  you  not  believe 
that  a  man  of  earnest  and  burly  habit  may  find 
small  good  in  tea,  essays,  and  catechism,  and  want 
a  rougher  instruction,  want  men,  labor,  trade, 
farming,  war,  hunger,  plenty,  love,  hatred,  doubt, 
and  terror,  to  make  things  plain  to  him  ;  and  has 
he  not  a  right  to  insist  on  being  convinced  in  his 
own  way?  When  he  is  convinced,  he  will  be 
worth  the  pains. 

Belief  consists  in  accepting  the  affirmations  of 
the  soul  ;  unbelief,  in  denying  them.  Some 
minds  are  incapable  of  skepticism.  The  doubts 
they  profess  to  entertain  are  rather  a  civility  or 
accommodation  to  the  common  discourse  of  their 
company.  They  may  well  give  themselves  leave 
to  speculate,  for  they  are  secure  of  a  return.  Once 
admitted  to  the  heaven  of  thought,  they  see  no 
relapse  into  night,  but  infinite  invitation  on  the 
other  side.  Heaven  is  within  heaven,  and  sky 
over  sky,  and  they  are  encompassed  with  divini- 
ties. Others  there  are,  to  whom  the  heaven  is 
brass,  and  it  shuts  down  to  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  It  is  a  question  of  temperament,  or  of  more 
or  less  immersion  in  nature.     The  last  class  must 


180  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

needs  have  a  reflex  or  parasite  faith ;  not  a  sight 
of  realities,  but  an  instinctive  reliance  on  the  seers 
and  believers  of  realities.  The  manners  and 
thoughts  of  believers  astonish  them,  and  convince 
them  that  these  have  seen  something  which  is  hid 
from  themselves.  But  their  sensual  habit  would 
fix  the  believer  to  his  last  position,  whilst  he  as 
inevitably  advances  ;  and  presently  the  unbeliever, 
for  love  of  belief,  burns  the  believer. 

Great  believers  are  always  reckoned  infidels, 
impracticable,  fantastic,  atheistic,  and  really  men 
of  no  account.  The  spiritualist  finds  himself 
driven  to  express  his  faith  by  a  series  of  skepti- 
cisms. Charitable  souls  come  with  their  projects, 
and  ask  his  cooperation.  How  can  he  hesitate  ? 
It  is  the  rule  of  mere  comity  and  courtesy  to 
agree  where  you  can,  and  to  turn  your  sentence 
with  something  auspicious^. and  not  freezing  and 
sinister.  But  he  is  forced  to  say,  '  O,  these  things 
will  be  as  they  must  be  :  what  can  you  do  ? 
These  particular  griefs  and  crimes  are  the  foliage 
and  fruit  of  such  trees  as  we  see  growing.  It  is 
vain  to  complain  of  the  leaf  or  the  berry  :  cut  it 
off ;  it  will  bear  another  just  as  bad.  You  must 
begin  your  cure  lower  down.'  The  generosities 
of  the  day  prove  an  intractable  element  for  him. 
The  people's  questions  are  not  his  ;  their  methods 
are  not  his ;  and,  against  all  the  dictates  of  good 


MONTAIGNE  }    OR,  THE  SKEPTIC,       181 

nature,  he  is  driven  to  say,  he  has  no  pleasure  in 
them. 

Even  the  doctrines  dear  to  the  hope  of  man, 
of  the  divine  Providence,  and  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  his  neighbors  can  not  put  the  statement 
so  that  he  shall  affirm  it.  But  he  denies  out  of 
more  faith,  and  not  less.  He  denies  out  of  hon- 
esty. He  had  rather  stand  charged  with  the  im- 
becility of  skepticism,  than  with  untruth.  I 
believe,  he  says,  in  the  moral  design  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  it  exists  hospitably  for  the  weal  of  souls ; 
but  your  dogmas  seem  to  me  caricatures  :  why 
should  I  make  believe  them  ?  Will  any  say,  this 
is  cold  and  infidel  ?  The  wise  and  magnanimous 
will  not  say  so.  They  will  exult  in  his  far-sighted 
good-will,  that  can  abandon  to  the  adversary  all 
the  ground  of  traditiornand  common  belief,  with- 
out losing  a  jot  of  length.  It  sees  to  the  end 
of  all  transgression.  George  Fox  saw  -  that  there 
was  an  ocean  of  darkness  and  death  ;  but  withal, 
an  infinite  ocean  of  light  and  love  which  flowed 
over  that  of  darkness." 

The  final  solution  in  which  skepticism  is  lost, 
is,  in  the  moral  sentiment,  which  never  forfeits 
its  supremacy.  All  moods  may  be  safely  tried, 
and  their  weight  allowed  to  all  objections  :  the 
moral  sentiment  as  easily  outweighs  them  all,  as 
any  one.  This  is  the  drop  which  balances  the 
16 


182  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

sea.  I  play  with  the  miscellany  of  facts,  and 
take  those  superficial  views  which  we  call  skep- 
ticism ;  but  I  know  that  they  will  presently 
appear  to  me  in  that  order  which  makes  skep- 
ticism impossible.  A  man  of  thought  must  feel 
the  thought  that  is  parent  of  the  universe  :  that 
the  masses  of  nature  do  undulate  and  flow. 

This  faith  avails  to  the  whole  emergency  of 
life  and  objects.  The  world  is  saturated  with 
deity  and  with  law.  He  is  content  with  just 
and  unjust,  with  sots  and  fools,  with  the  triumph 
of  folly  and  fraud.  He  can  behold  with  serenity 
the  yawning  gulf  between  the  ambition  of  man 
and  his  power  of  performance,  between  the 
demand  and  supply  of  power,  which  makes  the 
tragedy  of  all  souls. 

Charles  Fourier  announced  that  "the  attractions 
of  man  are  proportioned  to  his  destinies ;  "  in 
other  words,  that  every  desire  predicts  its  own 
satisfaction.  Yet,  all  experience  exhibits  the 
reverse  of  this  ;  the  incompetency  of  power  is 
the  universal  grief  of  young  and  ardent  minds. 
They  accuse  the  divine  providence  of  a  certain 
parsimony.  It  has  shown  the  heaven  and  earth 
to  every  child,  and  filled  him  with  a  desire  for 
the  whole  ;  a  desire  raging,  infinite  ;  a  hunger,  as 
of  space  to  be  filled  with  planets  ;  a  cry  of 
famine,  as  of  devils   for   souls.      Then  for   the 


MONTAIGNE  )    OR,    THE    SKEPTIC.  183 

satisfaction,  —  to  each  man  is  administered  a 
single  drop,  a  bead  of  dew  of  vital  power,  per 
day,  —  a  cup  as  large  as  space,  and  one  drop  of 
the  water  of  life  in  it.  Each  man  woke  in  the 
morning,  with  an  appetite  that  could  eat  the  solar 
system  like  a  cake  ;  a  spirit  for  action  and  passion 
without  bounds  ;  he  could  lay  his  hand  on  the 
morning  star  :  he  could  try  conclusions  with  grav- 
itation or  chemistry  ;  but,  on  the  first  motion  to 
prove  his  strength,  — hands,  feet,  senses,  gave  way, 
and  would  not  serve  him.  He  was  an  emperor 
deserted  by  his  states,  and  left  to  whistle  by  him- 
self, or  thrust  into  a  mob  of  emperors,  all  whist- 
ling :  and  still  the  sirens  sang,  "  The  attractions 
are  proportioned  to  the  destinies."  In  every 
house,  in  the  heart  of  each  maiden,  and  of  each 
boy,  in  the  soul  of  the  soaring  saint,  this  chasm 
is  found,  —  between  the  largest  promise  of  ideal 
power,  and  the  shabby  experience. 

The  expansive  nature  of  truth  comes  to  our 
succor,  elastic,  not  to  be  surrounded.  Man 
helps  himself  by  larger  generalizations.  The 
lesson  of  life  is  practically  to  generalize  :  to 
believe  what  the  years  and  the  centuries  say 
against  the  hours ;  to  resist  the  usurpation  of 
particulars  ;  to  penetrate  to  their  catholic  sense. 
Things  seem  to  say  one  thing,  and  say  the  re- 
%rerse.     The  appearance  is  immoral ;  the  result  is 


184  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

moral.  Things  seem  to  tend  downward,  to  justi- 
fy despondency,  to  promote  rogues,  to  defeat  the 
just ;  and,  by  knaves,  as  by  martyrs,  the  just 
cause  is  carried  forward.  Although  knaves  win 
in  every  political  struggle,  although  society  seems 
to  be  delivered  over  from  the  hands  of  one  set 
of  criminals  into  the  hands  of  another  set  of 
criminals,  as  fast  as  the  government  is  changed, 
and  the  march  of  civilization  is  a  train  of  felo- 
nies, yet,  general  ends  are  somehow  answered. 
We  see,  now,  events  forced  on,  which  seem  to 
retard  or  retrograde  the  civility  of  ages.  But  the 
world-spirit  is  a  good  swimmer,  and  storms  and 
waves  can  not  drown  him.  He  snaps  his  finger 
at  laws :  and  so,  throughout  history,  heaven  seems 
to  affect  low  and  poor  means.  Through  the 
years  and  the  centuries,  through  evil  agents, 
through  toys  and  atoms,  a  great  and  beneficent 
tendency  irresistibly  streams. 

Let  a  man  learn  to  look  for  the  permanent  in 
the  mutable  and  fleeting ;  let  him  learn  to  bear 
the  disappearance  of  things  he  was  wont  to 
reverence,  without  losing  his  reverence ;  let  him 
learn  that  he  is  here,  not  to  work,  but  to  be 
worked  upon ;  and  that,  though  abyss  open  under 
abyss,  and  opinion  displace  opinion,  all  are  at  last 
contained  in  the  Eternal  Cause.  — 

"  If  my  bark  sink,  'tis  to  another  sea." 


SHAKSPEARE 

OR, 

THE  POET. 


SHAKSPEARE;   OR,   THE  POET 


Great  men  are  more  distinguished  by  range  and 
extent,  than  by  originality.  If  we  require  the 
originality  which  consists  in  weaving,  like  a 
spider,  their  web  from  their  own  bowels ;  in  finding 
clay,  and  making  bricks,  and  building  the  house  ; 
no  great  men  are  original.  Nor  does  valuable 
originality  consist  in  unlikeness  to  other  men. 
The  hero  is  in  the  press  of  knights,  and  the  thick 
of  events ;  and,  seeing  what  men  want,  and  sharing 
their  desire,  he  adds  the  needful  length  of  sight 
and  of  arm,  to  come  at  the  desired  point.  The 
greatest  genius  is  the  most  indebted  man.  A  poet 
is  no  rattlebrain,  saying  what  comes  uppermost, 
and,  because  he  says  every  thing,  saying,  at  last, 
something  good ;  but  a  heart  in  unison  with  his 
time  and  country.  There  is  nothing  whimsical 
and  fantastic  in  his  production,  but  sweet  and  sad 
earnest,  freighted  with  the  weightiest  convictions, 


188  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

and  pointed  with  the  most  determined  aim  which 
any  man  or  class  knows  of  in  his  times. 

The  Genius  of  our  life  is  jealous  of  individuals, 
and  will  not  have  any  individual  great,  except 
through  the  general.  There  is  no  choice  to 
genius.  A  great  man  does  not  wake  up  on  some 
fine  morning,  and  say,  1 1  am  full  of  life,  I  will  go 
to  sea,  and  find  an  Antarctic  continent :  to-day  I 
will  square  the  circle :  I  will  ransack  botany,  and 
find  a  new  food  for  man :  I  have  a  new  architect- 
ure in  my  mind :  I  foresee  a  new  mechanic 
power  : '  no,  but  he  finds  himself  in  the  river  of 
the  thoughts  and  events,  forced  onward  by  the 
ideas  and  necessities  of  his  contemporaries.  He 
stands  where  all  the  eyes  of  men  look  one  way, 
and  their  hands  all  point  in  the  direction  in  which 
he  should  go.  The  church  has  reared  him  amidst 
rites  and  pomps,  and  he  carries  out  the  advice 
which  her  music  gave  him,  and  builds  a  cathedral 
needed  by  her  chants  and  processions.  He  finds 
a  war  raging :  it  educates  him,  by  trumpet,  in 
barracks,  and  he  betters  the  instruction.  He  finds 
two  counties  groping  to  bring  coal,  or  flour,  or 
fish,  from  the  place  of  production  to  the  place  of 
consumption,  and  he  hits  on  a  railroad.  Every 
master  has  found  his  materials  collected,  and  his 
power  lay  in  his  sympathy  with  his  people,  and 
in  his  love  of  the  materials  he  wrought  in.    What 


THE    POET.  189 

an  economy  of  power !  and  what  a  compensation 
for  the  shortness  of  life  !  All  is  done  to  his  hand. 
The  world  has  brought  him  thus  far  on  his  way. 
The  human  race  has  gone  out  before  him,  sunk 
the  hills,  filled  the  hollows,  and  bridged  the  riv- 
ers. Men,  nations,  poets,  artisans,  women,  all 
have  worked  for  him,  and  he  enters  into  their 
labors.  Choose  any  other  thing,  out  of  the  line 
of  tendency,  out  of  the  national  feeling  and  his- 
tory, and  he  would  have  all  to  do  for  himself :  his 
powers  would  be  expended  in  the  first  preparations. 
Great  genial  power,  one  would  almost  say,  con- 
sists in  not  being  original  at  all ;  in  being  altogether 
receptive  ;  in  letting  the  world  do  all.  and  suffer- 
ing the  spirit  of  the  hour  to  pass  unobstructed 
through  the  mind. 

Shakspeare's  youth  fell  in  a  time  when  the 
English  people  were  importunate  for  dramatic 
entertainments.  The  court  took  offence  easily 
at  political  allusions,  and  attempted  to  suppress 
them.  The  Puritans,  a  growing  and  energetic 
party,  and  the  religious  among  the  Anglican 
church,  would  suppress  them.  But  the  people 
wanted  them.  Inn-yards,  houses  without  roofs, 
and  extemporaneous  enclosures  at  country  fairs, 
were  the  ready  theatres  of  strolling  players. 
The  people  had  tasted  this  new  joy  ;  and,  as  we 
could  not  hope  to  suppress  newspapers  now,  —  no, 


190  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

not  by  the  strongest  party,  —  neither  then  could 
king,  prelate,  or  puritan,  alone  or  united,  suppress 
an  organ,  which  was  ballad,  epic,  newspaper, 
caucus,  lecture,  punch,  and  library,  at  the  same 
time.  Probably  king,  prelate,  and  puritan,  all 
found  their  own  account  in  it.  It  had  become, 
by  all  causes,  a  national  interest,  —  by  no  means 
conspicuous,  so  that  some  great  scholar  would 
have  thought  of  treating  it  in  an  English  history, 
—  but  not  a  whit  less  considerable,  because  it  was 
cheap,  and  of  no  account,  like  a  baker's-shop. 
The  best  proof  of  its  vitality  is  the  crowd  of  writers 
which  suddenly  broke  into  this  field :  Kyd,  Mar- 
low,  Greene,  Jonson,  Chapman,  Dekker,  Webster, 
Heywood,  Middleton,  Peele,  Ford,  Massinger, 
Beaumont,  and  Fletcher. 

The  secure  possession,  by  the  stage,  of  the 
public  mind,  is  of  the  first  importance  to  the  poet 
who  works  for  it.  He  loses  no  time  in  idle 
experiments.  Here  is  audience  and  expectation 
prepared.  In  the  case  of  Shakspeare  there  is 
much  more.  At  the  time  when  he  left  Stratford, 
and  went  up  to  London,  a  great  body  of  stage-plays, 
of  all  dates  and  writers,  existed  in  manuscript, 
and  were  in  turn  produced  on  the  boards.  Here 
is  the  Tale  of  Troy,  which  the  audience  will 
bear  hearing  some  part  of  every  week  ;  the  Death 
of  Julius  Caesar,  and  other  stories  out  of  Plutarch, 


SHAKSPEARE  J    OR,    THE    POET.  191 

which  they  never  tire  of;  a  shelf  full  of  English 
history,  from  the  chronicles  of  Brut  and  Arthur, 
down  to  the  royal  Henries,  which  men  hear 
eagerly ;  and  a  string  of  doleful  tragedies,  merry 
Italian  tales,  and  Spanish  voyages,  which  all  the 
London  prentices  know.  All  the  mass  has  been 
treated,  with  more  or  less  skill,  by  every  play- 
wright, and  the  prompter  has  the  soiled  and 
tattered  manuscripts.  It  is  now  no  longer  pos- 
sible to  say  who  wrote  them  first.  They  have 
been  the  property  of  the  Theatre  so  long,  and  so 
many  rising  geniuses  have  enlarged  or  altered 
them,  inserting  a  speech,  or  a  whole  scene,  or 
adding  a  song,  that  no  man  can  any  longer  claim 
copyright  on  this  work  of  numbers.  Happily,  no 
man  wishes  to.  They  are  not  yet  desired  in  that 
way.  We  have  few  readers,  many  spectators 
and  hearers.  They  had  best  lie  where  they  are. 
Shakspeare,  in  common  with  his  comrades, 
esteemed  the  mass  of  old  plays,  waste  stock,  in 
which  any  experiment  could  be  freely  tried.  Had 
the  prestige  which  hedges  about  a  modern  tragedy 
existed,  nothing  could  have  been  done.  The 
rude  warm  blood  of  the  living  England  circulated 
in  the  play,  as  in  street-ballads,  and  gave  body 
which  he  wanted  to  his  airy  and  majestic  fancy. 
The  poet  needs  a  ground  in  popular  tradition  on 
which   he   may  work,    and  which,   again,    may 


192  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

restrain  his  art  within  the  due  temperance,  It 
holds  him  to  the  people,  supplies  a  foundation  for 
his  edifice  ;  and,  in  furnishing  so  much  work  done 
to  his  hand,  leaves  him  at  leisure,  and  in  full 
strength  for  the  audacities  of  his  imagination. 
In  short,  the  poet  owes  to  his  legend  what  sculp- 
ture owed  to  the  temple.  Sculpture  in  Egypt, 
and  in  Greece,  grew  up  in  subordination  to 
architecture.  It  was  the  ornament  of  the  temple 
wall  :  at  first,  a  rude  relief  carved  on  pediments, 
then  the  relief  became  bolder,  and  a  head  or 
arm  was  projected  from  the  wall,  the  groups 
being  still  arrayed  with  reference  to  the  building, 
which  serves  also  as  a  frame  to  hold  the  figures  ; 
and  when,  at  last,  the  greatest  freedom  of  style 
and  treatment  was  reached,  the  prevailing  genius 
of  architecture  still  enforced  a  certain  ca'xnness 
and  continence  in  the  statue.  As  soon  as  the 
statue  was  begun  for  itself,  and  with  no  reference 
to  the  temple  or  palace,  the  art  began  to  decline  : 
freak,  extravagance,  and  exhibition,  took  the  place 
of  the  old  temperance.  This  balance-wheel, 
which  the  sculptor  found  in  architecture,  the 
perilous  irritability  of  poetic  talent  found  in  the 
accumulated  dramatic  materials  to  which  the  peo- 
ple were  already  wonted,  and  which  had  a  certain 
excellence  which  no  single  genius,  however 
extraordinary,  could  hope  to  create. 


SHAKSPEARE  J    OR,    THE    POET.  193 

In  point  of  fact,  it  appears  that  Shakspeare  did 
owe  debts  in  all  directions,  and  was  able  to  use 
whatever  he  found  ;  and  the  amount  of  indebted- 
ness may  be  inferred  from  Malone's  laborious  com- 
putations in  regard  to  the  First,  Second,  and  Third 
parts  of  Henry  VI.,  in  which,  "  out  of  6043  lines, 
1771  were  written  by  some  author  preceding 
Shakspeare  ;  2373  by  him,  on  the  foundation  laid 
by  his  predecessors ;  and  1899  were  entirely  his 
own."  And  the  proceeding  investigation  hardly 
leaves  a  single  drama  of  his  absolute  invention. 
Malone's  sentence  is  an  important  piece  of  ex- 
ternal history.  In  Henry  VIII.,  I  think  I  see 
plainly  the  cropping  out  of  the  original  rock  on 
which  his  own  finer  stratum  was  laid.  The  first 
play  was  written  by  a  superior,  thoughtful  man, 
with  a  vicious  ear.  I  can  mark  his  lines,  and 
know  well  their  cadence.  See  Wolsey's  soliloquy, 
and  the  following  scene  with  Cromwell,  where,  — ■ 
instead  of  the  metre  of  Shakspeare,  whose  secret 
is,  that  the  thought  constructs  the  tune,  so  that 
reading  for  the  sense  will  best  bring  out  the 
rhythm,  —  here  the  lines  are  constructed  on  a 
given  tune,  and  the  verse  has  even  a  trace  of 
pulpit  eloquence.  But  the  play  contains,  through 
all  its  length,  unmistakable  traits  of  Shakspeare's 
hand,  and  some  passages,  as  the  account  of  the 
coronation,  are  like  autographs.  What  is  odd, 
17 


194  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  compliment  to  Q,ueen  Elizabeth  is  in  the  bad 
rhythm. 

Shakspeare  knew  that  tradition  supplies  a  bet- 
ter fable  than  any  invention  can.  If  he  lost  any 
credit  of  design,  he  augmented  his  resources  •  and, 
at  that  day,  our  petulant  demand  for  originality 
was  not  so  much  pressed.  There  was  no  literature 
for  the  million.  The  universal  reading,  the  cheap 
press,  were  unknown.  A  great  poet,  who  appears 
in  illiterate  times,  absorbs  into  his  sphere  all  the 
light  which  is  any  where  radiating.  Every 
intellectual  jewel,  every  flower  of  sentiment,  it 
is  his  fine  office  to  bring  to  his  people  ;  and  he 
comes  to  value  his  memory  equally  with  his 
invention.  He  is  therefore  little  solicitous  whence 
his  thoughts  have  been  derived  ;  whether  through 
translation,  whether  through  tradition,  whether 
by  travel  in  distant  countries,  whether  by  inspira- 
tion ;  from  whatever  source,  they  are  equally 
welcome  to  his  uncritical  audience.  Nay,  he 
borrows  very  near  home.  Other  men  say  wise 
things  as  well  as  he  ;  only  they  say  a  good  many 
foolish  things,  and  do  not  know  when  they  have 
spoken  wisely.  He  knows  the  sparkle  of  the 
true  stone,  and  puts  it  in  high  place,  wherever 
he  finds  it.  Such  is  the  happy  position  of  Homer, 
perhaps ;  of  Chaucer,  of  Saadi.  They  felt  that 
all  wit  was  their  wit.     And  they  are  librarians 


SHAKSPEARE  J    OR,    THE    POET.  195 

and  historiographers,  as  well  as  poets.  Each 
romancer  was  heir  and  dispenser  of  all  the  hun- 
dred tales  of  the  world,  — 


"  Presenting  Thebes'  and  Pelops'  line 
And  the  tale  of  Troy  divine." 


The  influence  of  Chaucer  is  conspicuous  in  all 
our  early  literature  ;  and,  more  recently,  not  only 
Pope  and  Dryden  have  been  beholden  to  him, 
but,  in  the  whole  society  of  English  writers,  a 
large  unacknowledged  debt  is  easily  traced.  One 
is  charmed  with  the  opulence  which  feeds  so 
many  pensioners.  But  Chaucer  is  a  huge  bor- 
rower. Chaucer,  it  seems,  drew  continually, 
through  Lydgate  and  Caxton,  from  Guido  di 
Colonna,  whose  Latin  romance  of  the  Trojan 
war  was  in  turn  a  compilation  from  Dares  Phry- 
gius,  Ovid,  and  Statius.  Then  Petrarch,  Boccac- 
cio, and  the  Provencal  poets,  are  his  benefactors : 
the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose  is  only  judicious  trans- 
lation from  William  of  Lorris  and  John  of  Meun  : 
Troilus  and  Creseide,  from  Lollius  of  Urbino: 
The  Cock  and  the  Fox,  from  the  Lais  of  Marie  : 
The  House  of  Fame,  from  the  French  or  Italian : 
and  poor  Gower  he  uses  as  if  he  were  only  a 
brick-kiln  or  stone-quarry,  out  of  which  to  build 
his  house.    He  steals  by  this  apology,  — that  what 


196  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

he  takes  has  no  worth  where  he  finds  it,  and  the 
greatest  where  he  leaves  it.  It  has  come  to  be 
practically  a  sort  of  rule  in  literature,  that  a  man, 
having  once  shown  himself  capable  of  original 
writing,  is  entitled  thenceforth  to  steal  from  the 
writings  of  others  at  discretion.  Thought  is  the 
property  of  him  who  can  entertain  it ;  and  of 
him  who  can  adequately  place  it.  A  certain 
awkwardness  marks  the  use  of  borrowed  thoughts  ; 
but,  as  soon  as  we  have  learned  what  to  do  with 
them,  they  become  our  own. 

Thus,  all  originality  is  relative.  Every  thinker 
is  retrospective.  The  learned  member  of  the 
legislature,  at  Westminster,  or  at  Washington, 
speaks  and  votes  for  thousands.  Show  us  the 
constituency,  and  the  now  invisible  channels  by 
which  the  senator  is  made  aware  of  their  wishes, 
the  crowd  of  practical  and  knowing  men,  who, 
by  correspondence  or  conversation,  are  feeding 
him  with  evidence,  anecdotes,  and  estimates,  and 
it  will  bereave  his  fine  attitude  and  resistance  of 
something  of  their  impressiveness.  As  Sir  Rob- 
ert Peel  and  Mr.  Webster  vote,  so  Locke  and 
Rousseau  think  for  thousands ;  and  so  there 
were  fountains  all  around  Homer,  Menu,  Saadi, 
or  Milton,  from  which  they  drew  ;  friends,  lovers, 
books,  traditions,  proverbs,  —  all  perished, — 
which,  if  seen,  would  go  to  reduce  the  wonder. 


SHAKSPEARE  J    OR,    THE    POET.  197 

Did  the  bard  speak  with  authority?  Did  he 
feel  himself  overmatched  by  any  companion? 
The  appeal  is  to  the  consciousness  of  the  writer. 
Is  there  at  last  in  his  breast  a  Delphi  whereof  to 
ask  concerning  any  thought  or  thing,  whether  it 
be  verily  so,  yea  or  nay?  and  to  have  answer, 
and  to  rely  on  that  ?  All  the  debts  which  such 
a  man  could  contract  to  other  wit,  would  never 
disturb  his  consciousness  of  originality :  for  the 
ministrations  of  books,  and  of  other  minds,  are  a 
whiff  of  smoke  to  that  most  private  reality  with 
which  he  has  conversed. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  what  is  best  written  or 
done  by  genius,  in  the  world,  was  no  man's  work, 
but  came  by  wide  social  labor,  when  a  thousand 
wrought  like  one,  sharing  the  same  impulse. 
Our  English  Bible  is  a  wonderful  specimen  of  the 
strength  and  music  of  the  English  language.  But 
it  was  not  made  by  one  man,  or  at  one  time  ;  but 
centuries  and  churches  brought  it  to  perfection. 
There  never  was  a  time  when  there  was  not  some 
translation  existing.  The  Liturgy,  admired  for  its 
energy  and  pathos,  is  an  anthology  of  the  piety 
of  ages  and  nations,  a  translation  of  the  prayers 
and  forms  of  the  Catholic  church,  —  these  col- 
lected, too,  in  long  periods,  from  the  prayers  and 
meditations  of  every  saint  and  sacred  writer,  all 
17* 


198  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

over  the  world.  Grotius  makes  the  like  remark 
in  respect  to  the  Lord's  Prayer,  that  the  single 
clauses  of  which  it  is  composed  were  already  in 
use,  in  the  time  of  Christ,  in  the  rabbinical  forms. 
He  picked  out  the  grains  of  gold.  The  nervous 
language  of  the  Common  Law,  the  impressive 
forms  of  our  courts,  and  the  precision  and  substan- 
tial truth  of  the  legal  distinctions,  are  the  contribu- 
tion of  all  the  sharp-sighted,  strong-minded  men 
who  have  lived  in  the  countries  where  these  laws 
govern.  The  translation  of  Plutarch  gets  its  ex- 
cellence by  being  translation  on  translation.  There 
never  was  a  time  when  there  was  none.  All  the 
truly  idiomatic  and  national  phrases  are  kept,  and 
all  others  successively  picked  out,  and  thrown 
away.  Something  like  the  same  process  had  gone 
on,  long  before,  with  the  originals  of  these  books. 
The  world  takes  liberties  with  world-books.  Ve- 
das,  iEsop's  Fables,  Pilpay,  Arabian  Nights,  Cid, 
Iliad,  Robin  Hood,  Scottish  Minstrelsy,  are  not 
the  work  of  single  men.  In  the  composition 
of  such  works,  the  time  thinks,  the  market 
thinks,  the  mason,  the  carpenter,  the  merchant, 
the  farmer,  the  fop,  all  think  for  us.  Every  book 
supplies  its  time  with  one  good  word ;  every 
municipal  law,  every  trade,  every  folly  of  the  day, 
and  the  generic  catholic  genius  who  is  not  afraid 
or  ashamed  to  owe  his  originality  to  the  original- 


OR,    THE    POET.  199 

ity  of  all,  stands  with  the  next  age  as  the  recorder 
and  embodiment  of  his  own. 

We  have  to  thank  the  researches  of  antiquaries, 
and  the  Shakspeare  Society,  for  ascertaining  the 
steps  of  the  English  drama,  from  the  Mysteries 
celebrated  in  churches  and  by  churchmen,  and  the 
final  detachment  from  the  church,  and  the  com- 
pletion of  secular  plays,  from  Ferrex  and  Porrex, 
and  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  down  to  the  pos- 
session of  the  stage  by  the  very  pieces  which 
Shakspeare  altered,  remodelled,  and  finally  made 
his  own.  Elated  with  success,  and  piqued  by  the 
growing  interest  of  the  problem,  they  have  left 
no  book-stall  unsearched,  no  chest  in  a  garret  un- 
opened, no  file  of  old  yellow  accounts  to  decom- 
pose in  damp  and  worms,  so  keen  was  the  hope  to 
discover  whether  the  boy  Shakspeare  poached  or 
not,  whether  he  held  horses  at  the  theatre  door, 
whether  he  kept  school,  and  why  he  left  in  his 
will  only  his  second-best  bed  to  Ann  Hathaway, 
his  wife. 

There  is  somewhat  touching  in  the  madness 
with  which  the  passing  age  mischooses  the  object 
on  which  all  candles  shine,  and  all  eyes  are  turned  ; 
the  care  with  which  it  registers  every  trifle  touch- 
ing Queen  Elizabeth,  and  King  James,  and  the 
Essexes,  Leicesters,  Burleighs,  and  Buckinghams  ; 
and  lets  pass  without  a  single  valuable  note  the 


200  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

founder  of  another  dynasty,  which  alone  will  cause 
the  Tudor  dynasty  to  be  remembered, — the  man 
who  carries  the  Saxon  race  in  him  by  the  inspira- 
tion which  feeds  him,  and  on  whose  thoughts  the 
foremost  people  of  the  world  are  now  for  some 
ages  to  be  nourished,  and  minds  to  receive  this 
and  not  another  bias.  A  popular  player,  —  nobody 
suspected  he  was  the  poet  of  the  human  race ; 
and  the  secret  was  kept  as  faithfully  from  poets 
and  intellectual  men,  as  from  courtiers  and  frivo- 
lous people.  Bacon,  who  took  the  inventory  of 
the  human  understanding  for  his  times,  never 
mentioned  his  name.  Ben  Jonson,  though  we 
have  strained  his  few  words  of  regard  and  pane- 
gyric, had  no  suspicion  of  the  elastic  fame  whose 
first  vibrations  he  was  attempting.  He  no  doubt 
thought  the  praise  he  has  conceded  to  him  gen- 
erous, and  esteemed  himself,  out  of  all  question, 
the  better  poet  of  the  two. 

If  it  need  wit  to  know  wit,  according  to  the 
proverb,  Shakspeare's  time  should  be  capable  of 
recognizing  it.  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  born  four 
years  after  Shakspeare,  and  died  twenty-three 
years  after  him  ;  and  I  find,  among  his  correspond- 
ents and  acquaintances,  the  following  persons  : 
Theodore  Beza,  Isaac  Casaubon,  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney, Earl  of  Essex,  Lord  Bacon,  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,   John    Milton,    Sir   Henry  Vane,    Isaac 


OR,    THE    POET.  201 

Walton,  Dr.  Donne,  Abraham  Cowley,  Bellar- 
mine,  Charles  Cotton,  John  Pym,  John  Hales, 
Kepler,  Yieta,  Albericus  Gentilis,  Paul  Sarpi, 
Arminius ;  with  all  of  whom  exists  some  token 
of  his  having  communicated,  without  enumerating 
many  others,  whom  doubtless  he  saw,  —  Shak- 
speare,  Spenser,  Jonson,  Beaumont,  Massinger, 
two  Herberts,  Marlow,  Chapman,  and  the  rest. 
Since  the  constellation  of  great  men  who  appeared 
in  Greece  in  the  time  of  Pericles,  there  was  never 
any  such  society  j  —  yet  their  genius  failed  them 
to  find  out  the  best  head  in  the  universe.  Our 
poet's  mask  was  impenetrable.  You  cannot  see 
the  mountain  near.  It  took  a  century  to  make  it 
suspected  ;  and  not  until  two  centuries  had  passed, 
after  his  death,  did  any  criticism  which  we  think 
adequate  begin  to  appear.  It  was  not  possible  to 
write  the  history  of  Shakspeare  till  now ;  for  he 
is  the  father  of  German  literature :  it  was  on  the 
introduction  of  Shakspeare  into  German,  by  Les- 
sing,  and  the  translation  of  his  works  by  Wieland 
and  Schlegel,  that  the  rapid  burst  of  German  lit- 
erature was  most  intimately  connected.  It  was 
not  until  the  nineteenth  century,  whose  specula- 
tive genius  is  a  sort  of  living  Hamlet,  that  the 
tragedy  of  Hamlet  could  find  such  wondering 
readers.  Now,  literature,  philosophy,  and  thought, 
are  Shakspearized.     His  mind  is  the  horizon  be- 


202  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

yond  which,  at  present,  we  do  not  see.  Our  ears 
are  educated  to  music  by  his  rhythm.  Coleridge 
and  Goethe  are  the  only  critics  who  have  ex- 
pressed our  convictions  with  any  adequate  fidelity : 
but  there  is  in  all  cultivated  minds  a  silent  ap- 
preciation of  his  superlative  power  and  beauty, 
which,  like  Christianity,  qualifies  the  period. 

The  Shakspeare  Society  have  inquired  in  all 
directions,  advertised  the  missing  facts,  offered 
money  for  any  information  that  will  lead  to  proof ; 
and  with  what  result?  Beside  some  important 
illustration  of  the  history  of  the  English  stage,  to 
which  I  have  adverted,  they  have  gleaned  a  few 
facts  touching  the  property,  and  dealings  in  regard 
to  property,  of  the  poet.  It  appears  that,  from 
year  to  year,  he  owned  a  larger  share  in  the 
Blackfriars'  Theatre :  its  wardrobe  and  other 
appurtenances  were  his :  that  he  bought  an  estate 
in  his  native  village,  with  his  earnings,  as  writer 
and  shareholder  ;  that  he  lived  in  the  best  house 
in  Stratford  ;  was  intrusted  by  his  neighbors  with 
their  commissions  in  London,  as  of  borrowing 
money,  and  the  like ;  that  he  was  a  veritable 
farmer.  About  the  time  when  he  was  writing 
Macbeth,  he  sues  Philip  Rogers,  in  the  borough- 
court  of  Stratford,  for  thirty-five  shillings,  ten 
pence,  for  corn  delivered  to  him  at  different  times ; 
and,  in  all  respects,  appears  as  a  good  husband, 


SHAKSPEARE  J    OR,    THE    POET.  203 

with  no  reputation  for  eccentricity  or  excess.  He 
was  a  good-natured  sort  of  man,  an  actor  and 
shareholder  in  the  theatre,  not  in  any  striking 
manner  distinguished  from  other  actors  and 
managers.  I  admit  the  importance  of  this  infor- 
mation. It  was  well  worth  the  pains  that  have 
been  taken  to  procure  it. 

But  whatever  scraps  of  information  concerning 
his  condition  these  researches  may  have  rescued, 
they  can  shed  no  light  upon  that  infinite  inven- 
tion which  is  the  concealed  magnet  of  his  attrac- 
tion for  us.  We  are  very  clumsy  writers  of 
history.  We  tell  the  chronicle  of  parentage, 
birth,  birth-place,  schooling,  school-mates,  earning 
of  money,  marriage,  publication  of  books,  celeb- 
rity, death ;  and  when  we  have  come  to  an  end  of 
this  gossip,  no  ray  of  relation  appears  between  it 
and  the  goddess-born ;  and  it  seems  as  if,  had  we 
dipped  at  random  into  the  "Modern  Plutarch," 
and  read  any  other  life  there,  it  would  have  fitted 
the  poems  as  well.  It  is  the  essence  of  poetry  to 
spring,  like  the  rainbow  daughter  of  Wonder,  from 
the  invisible,  to  abolish  the  past,  and  refuse  all 
history.  Malone,  Warburton,  Dyce,  and  Collier, 
have  wasted  their  oil.  The  famed  theatres, 
Covent  Garden,  Drury  Lane,  the  Park,  and  Tre- 
mont,  have  vainly  assisted.  Betterton,  Garrick, 
Kemble,  Kean,  and  Macready,  dedicate  their  lives 


204  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

to  this  genius  ;  him  they  crown,  elucidate,  obey, 
and  express.  The  genius  knows  them  not.  The 
recitation  begins ;  one  golden  word  leaps  out 
immortal  from  all  this  painted  pedantry,  and 
sweetly  torments  us  with  invitations  to  its  own 
inaccessible  homes.  I  remember,  I  went  once 
to  see  the  Hamlet  of  a  famed  performer,  the 
pride  of  the  English  stage ;  and  all  I  then  heard, 
and  all  I  now  remember,  of  the  tragedian,  was 
that  in  which  the  tragedian  had  no  part  j  simply, 
Hamlet's  question  to  the  ghost,  — 

"  What  may  this  mean, 
That  thou,  dead  corse,  again  in  complete  steel 
Revisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon  ? " 

That  imagination  which  dilates  the  closet  he 
writes  in  to  the  world's  dimension,  crowds  it 
with  agents  in  rank  and  order,  as  quickly  reduces 
the  big  reality  to  be  the  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
These  tricks  of  his  magic  spoil  for  us  the  illu- 
sions of  the  green-room.  Can  any  biography 
shed  light  on  the  localities  into  which  the 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream  admits  me  ?  Did 
Shakspeare  confide  to  any  notary  or  parish 
recorder,  sacristan,  or  surrogate,  in  Stratford,  the 
genesis  of  that  delicate  creation  ?  The  forest  of 
Arden,  the  nimble  air  of  Scone  Castle,  the  moon- 
light of  Portia's  villa,  "  the  antres  vast  and  desarts 


}    THE    POET.  205 

idle,"  of  Othello's  captivity.  —  where  is  the  third 
cousin,  or  grand-nephew,  the  chancellor's  file  of 
accounts,  or  private  letter,  that  has  kept  one  word 
of  those  transcendent  secrets  ?      In  fine,  in  this 
drama,    as   in   all   great  works   of   art, — in  the! 
Cyclopsean  architecture  of  Egypt  and  India ;  in  j 
the  Phidian  sculpture ;  the  Gothic  minsters ;  thei 
Italian  painting ;  the  Ballads  of  Spain  and  Scot-f 
land.  —  the  Genius  draws  up  the  ladder  after  himrj 
when  the  creative  age  goes  up  to  heaven,  and] 
gives  way  to  a  new,  who  see  the  works,  and  ask 
in  vain  for  a  history. 

Shakspeare  is  the    only   biographer  of   Shak- 
speare  ;  and  even  he  can  tell  nothing,  except  to  the 
Shakspeare  in  us ;  that  is,  to  our  most  apprehen- 
sive and  sympathetic  hour.     He  cannot  step  from 
off  his  tripod,  and  give  us  anecdotes  of  his  inspi- 
rations.    Read  the  antique  documents  extricated^ 
analyzed,  and  compared,  by  the  assiduous  Dyce 
and  Collier ;    and  now  read  one  of  those  skieyl 
sentences,  —  aerolites, — which    seem    to    havel 
fallen  out  of  heaven,  and  which,  not  your  expe-/ 
rience,  but  the  man  within  the  breast,  has  accepted 
as  words  of  fate ;  and  tell  me  if  they  match ;  if 
the  former  account  in  any  manner  for  the  latter ; 
or,  which  gives  the  most  historical  insight  into  the 
man. 

Hence,  though  our  external  history  is  so  mea- 
18 


206  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

gre,  yet,  with  Shakspeare  for  biographer,  instead 
of  Aubrey  and  RoAve,  we  have  really  the  in- 
formation which  is  material,  that  which  describes 
character  and  fortune,  that  which,  if  we  were 
about  to  meet  the  man  and  deal  with  him,  would 
most  import  us  to  know.  We  have  his  recorded 
convictions  on  those  questions  which  knock  for 
answer  at  every  heart,  —  on  life  and  death,  on  love, 
on  wealth  and  poverty,  on  the  prizes  of  life,  and 
the  ways  whereby  we  come  at  them ;  on  the 
characters  of  men,  and  the  influences,  occult  and 
open,  which  affect  their  fortunes :  and  on  those 
mysterious  and  demoniacal  powers  which  defy 
our  science,  and  which  yet  interweave  their  mal- 
ice and  their  gift  in  our  brightest  hours.  Who 
ever  read  the  volume  of  the  Sonnets,  without 
finding  that  the  poet  had  there  revealed,  under 
masks  that  are  no  masks  to  the  intelligent,  the 
lore  of  friendship  and  of  love  ;  the  confusion  of 
sentiments  in  the  most  susceptible,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  most  intellectual  of  men  ?  What 
trait  of  his  private  mind  has  he  hidden  in  his" 
dramas  ?  One  can  discern,  in  his  ample  pictures 
of  the  gentleman  and  the  king,  what  forms  and 
humanities  pleased  him ;  his  delight  in  troops  of 
friends,  in  large  hospitality,  in  cheerful  giving. 
Let  Timon,  let  Warwick,  let  Antonio  the  mer- 
chant, answer  for  his  great  heart.     So  far  from 


OR,    THE    POET.  207 

Shakspeare's  being  the  least  known,  he  is  the 
one  person,  in  all  modern  history,  known  to  us. 
What  point  of  morals,  of  manners,  of  economy, 
of  philosophy,  of  religion,  of  taste,  of  the  con- 
duct of  life,  has  he  not  settled  ?  What  mystery 
has  he  not  signified  his  knowledge  of?  What 
office,  or  function,  or  district  of  man's  work,  has 
he  not  remembered  ?  What  king  has  he  not 
taught  state,  as  Talma  taught  Napoleon  ?  What 
maiden  has  not  found  him  finer  than  her  deli- 
cacy ?  What  lover  has  he  not  outloved  ?  What 
sage  has  he  not  outseen  ?  What  gentleman  has 
he  not  instructed  in  the  rudeness  of  his  behavior  ? 
Some  able  and  appreciating  critics  think  no 
criticism  on  Shakspeare  valuable,  that  does  not 
rest  purely  on  the  dramatic  merit ;  that  he  is 
falsely  judged  as  poet  and  philosopher.  I  think  as 
highly  as  these  critics  of  his  dramatic  merit,  but 
still  think  it  secondary.  He  was  a  full  man,  who 
liked  to  talk ;  a  brain  exhaling  thoughts  and  im- 
ages, which,  seeking  vent,  found  the  drama  next 
at  hand.  Had  he  been  less,  we  should  have  had 
to  consider  how  well  he  filled  his  place,  how  good 
a  dramatist  he  was,  —  and  he  is  the  best  in  the 
world.  Bat  it  turns  out,  that  what  he  has  to  say 
is  of  that  weight,  as  to  withdraw  some  attention 
from  the  vehicle  ;  and  he  is  like  some  saint  whose 
history  is  to  be  rendered  into  all  languages,  into 


208  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

verse  and  prose,  into  songs  and  pictures,  and  cut 
up  into  proverbs ;  so  that  the  occasion  which  gave 
the  saint's  meaning  the  form  of  a  conversation,  or 
of  a  prayer,  or  of  a  code  of  laws,  is  immaterial, 
compared  with  the  universality  of  its  application. 
So  it  fares  with  the  wise  Shakspeare  and  his  book 
of  life.  He  wrote  the  airs  for  all  our  modern 
music  :  he  wrote  the  text  of  modern  life  •  the 
text  of  manners :  he  drew  the  man  of  England 
and  Europe ;  the  father  of  the  man  in  America  : 
he  drew  the  man,  and  described  the  day,  and 
what  is  done  in  it :  he  read  the  hearts  of  men  and 
women,  their  probity,  and  their  second  thought, 
and  wiles  ;  the  wiles  of  innocence,  and  the  transi- 
tions by  which  virtues  and  vices  slide  into  their 
contraries :  he  could  divide  the  mother's  part  from 
the  father's  part  in  the  face  of  the  child,  or  draw 
the  fine  demarcations  of  freedom  and  of  fate :  he 
knew  the  laws  of  repression  which  make  the 
police  of  nature  :  and  all  the  sweets  and  all  the 
terrors  of  human  lot  lay  in  his  mind  as  truly  but 
as  softly  as  the  landscape  lies  on  the  eye.  And 
the  importance  of  this  wisdom  of  life  sinks  the 
form,  as  of  Drama  or  Epic,  out  of  notice.  'Tis 
like  making  a  question  concerning  the  paper  on 
which  a  king's  message  is  written. 

Shakspeare  is  as  much  out  of  the  category  of 
eminent  authors,  as  he  is  out  of  the  crowd.     He 


SHAKSPEARE  ;    OR,    THE    POET.  209 

is  inconceivably  wise  ;  the  others,  conceivably.  A 
good  reader  can,  in  a  sort,  nestle  into  Plato's  brain, 
and  think  from  thence  ;  but  not  into  Shakspeare's. 
We  are  still  out  of  doors.  For  executive  faculty, 
for  creation,  Shakspeare  is  unique.  No  man  can 
imagine  it  better.  He  was  the  farthest  reach  of 
subtlety  compatible  with  an  individual  self,  —  the 
subtilest  of  authors,  and  only  just  within  the  pos- 
sibility of  authorship.  With  this  wisdom  of  life, 
is  the  equal  endowment  of  imaginative  and  of 
lyric  power.  He  clothed  the  creatures  of  his 
legend  with  form  and  sentiments,  as  if  they  were 
people  who  had  lived  under  his  roof;  and  few 
real  men  have  left  such  distinct  characters  as  these 
fictions.  And  they  spoke  in  language  as  sweet 
as  it  was  fit.  Yet  his  talents  never  seduced  him 
into  an  ostentation,  nor  did  he  harp  on  one  string. 
An  omnipresent  humanity  coordinates  all  his  fac- 
ulties. Give  a  man  of  talents  a  story  to  tell, 
and  his  partiality  will  presently  appear.  He  has 
certain  observations,  opinions,  topics,  which  have 
some  accidental  prominence,  and  which  he  dis- 
poses all  to  exhibit.  He  crams  this  part,  and 
starves  that  other  part,  consulting  not  the  fitness 
of  the  thing,  but  his  fitness  and  strength.  But 
Shakspeare  has  no  peculiarity,  no  importunate 
topic  ;  but  all  is  duly  given ;  no  veins,  no  curiosi- 
ties :  no  cow-painter,  no  bird-fancier,  no  manner- 
18* 


210  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

ist  is  he :  he  has  no  discoverable  egotism  :  the 
great  he  tells  greatly  ;  the  small,  subordinately. 
He  is  wise  without  emphasis  or  assertion ;  he  is 
strong,  as  nature  is  strong,  who  lifts  the  land  into 
mountain  slopes  without  effort,  and  by  the  same 
rule  as  she  floats  a  bubble  in  the  air,  and  likes  as 
well  to  do  the  one  as  the  other.  This  makes  that 
equality  of  power  in  farce,  tragedy,  narrative,  and 
love-songs  j  a  merit  so  incessant,  that  each  reader 
is  incredulous  of  the  perception  of  other  readers. 

This  power  of  expression,  or  of  transferring  the 
inmost  truth  of  things  into  music  and  verse, 
makes  him  the  type  of  the  poet,  and  has  added 
a  new  problem  to  metaphysics.  This  is  that 
which  throws  him  into  natural  history,  as  a  main 
production  of  the  globe,  and  as  announcing  new 
eras  and  ameliorations.  Things  were  mirrored  in 
his  poetry  without  loss  or  blur  :  he  could  paint 
the  fine  with  precision,  the  great  with  compass ; 
the  tragic  and  the  comic  indifferently,  and  without 
any  distortion  or  favor.  He  carried  his  powerful 
execution  into  minute  details,  to  a  hair  point  ; 
finishes  an  eyelash  or  a  dimple  as  firmly  as  he 
draws  a  mountain ;  and  yet  these,  like  nature's, 
will  bear  the  scrutiny  of  the  solar  microscope. 

In  short,  he  is  the  chief  example  to  prove  that 
more  or  less  of  production,  more  or  fewer  pictures, 
is  a  thing  indifferent.     He  had  the  power  to  make 


OR,    THE    POET.  211 

one  picture.  Daguerre  learned  how  to  let  one 
flower  etch  its  image  on  his  plate  of  iodine  ;  and 
then  proceeds  at  leisure  to  etch  a  million.  There 
are  always  objects ;  hut  there  was  never  represen- 
tation. Here  is  perfect  representation,  at  last ;  and 
now  let  the  world  of  figures  sit  for  their  portraits. 
No  recipe  can  he  given  for  the  making  of  a 
Shakspeare ;  but  the  possibility  of  the  translation 
of  things  into  song  is  demonstrated. 

His  lyric  power  lies  in  the  genius  of  the  piece. 
The  sonnets,  though  their  excellence  is  lost  in  the 
splendor  of  the  dramas,  are  as  inimitable  as  they  : 
and  it  is  not  a  merit  of  lines,  but  a  total  merit  of 
the  piece  ;  like  the  tone  of  voice  of  some  incom- 
parable person,  so  is  this  a  speech  of  poetic  beings, 
and  any  clause  as  unproducible  now  as  a  whole 
poem. 

Though  the  speeches  in  the  plays,  and  single 
lines,  have  a  beauty  which  tempts  the  ear  to  pause 
on  them  for  their  euphuism,  yet  the  sentence  is 
so  loaded  with  meaning,  and  so  linked  with  its 
foregoers  and  followers,  that  the  logician  is  satis- 
fied. His  means  are  as  admirable  as  his  ends  ; 
every  subordinate  invention,  by  which  he  helps 
himself  to  connect  some  irreconcilable  opposites, 
is  a  poem  too.  He  is  not  reduced  to  dismount 
and  walk,  because  his  horses  are  running  off  with 
him  in  some  distant  direction :  he  always  rides. 


212  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

The  finest  poetry  was  first  experience  :  but 
the  thought  has  suffered  a  transformation  since  it 
was  an  experience.  Cultivated  men  often  attain 
a  good  degree  of  skill  in  writing  verses ;  but  it  is 
easy  to  read,  through  their  poems,  their  personal 
history :  any  one  acquainted  with  parties  can 
name  every  figure  :  this  is  Andrew,  and  that  is 
Rachel.  The  sense  thus  remains  prcsaic.  It  is 
a  caterpillar  with  wings,  and  not  yet  a  butterfly. 
In  the  poet's  mind,  the  fact  has  gone  quite  over 
into  the  new  element  of  thought,  and  has  lost  all 
that  is  exnvial.  This  generosity  abides  with 
Shakspeare.  We  say,  from  the  truth  and  close- 
ness of  his  pictures,  that  he  knows  the  lesson  by 
heart.     Yet  there  is  not  a  trace  of  egotism. 

One  more  royal  trait  properly  belongs  to  the 
poet.  I  mean  his  cheerfulness,  without  which 
no  man  can  be  a  pcet,  —  for  beauty  is  his  aim.  He 
loves  virtue,  not  for  its  obligation,  but  for  its 
grace :  he  delights  in  the  world,  in  man,  in 
woman,  for  the  lovely  light  that  sparkles  from 
them.  Beauty,  the  spirit  of  joy  and  hilarity,  he 
sheds  over  the  universe.  Epicurus  relates,  that 
poetry  hath  such  charms  that  a  lover  might  for- 
sake his  mistress  to  partake  of  them.  And  the 
true  bards  have  been  noted  for  their  firm  and 
cheerful  temper.  Homer  lies  in  sunshine  ;  Chau- 
cer is  glad  and  erect ;  and  Saadi  says,  "  It  was 


213 

rumored  abroad  that  I  was  penitent ;  but  what 
had  I  to  do  with  repentance  ?  "  Not  less  sov- 
ereign and  cheerful,  —  much  more  sovereign  and 
cheerful,  is  the  tone  of  Shakspeare.  His  name 
suggests  joy  and  emancipation  to  the  heart  of 
men.  If  he  should  appear  in  any  company  of 
human  souls,  who  would  not  march  in  his  troop  ? 
He  touches  nothing  that  does  not  borrow  health 
and  longevity  from  his  festal  style. 

And  now,  how  stands  the  account  of  man  with 
this  bard  and  benefactor,  when  in  solitude,  shut- 
ting our  ears  to  the  reverberations  of  his  fame, 
we  seek  to  strike  the  balance  ?  Solitude  has 
austere  lessons ;  it  can  teach  us  to  spare  both 
heroes  and  poets  ;  and  it  weighs  Shakspeare  also, 
and  finds  him  to  share  the  halfness  and  imperfec- 
tion of  humanity. 

Shakspeare,  Homer,  Dante,  Chaucer,  saw  the 
splendor  of  meaning  that  plays  over  the  visible 
world  ;  knew  that  a  tree  had  another  use  than 
for  apples,  and  corn  another  than  for  meal,  and 
the  ball  of  the  earth,  than  for  tillage  and  roads : 
that  these  things  bore  a  second  and  finer  harvest 
to  the  mind,  being  emblems  of  its  thoughts,  and 
conveying  in  all  their  natural  history  a  certain 
mute  commentary  on  human  life.  Shakspeare 
employed  them  as  colors  to  compose  his  picture. 


214  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

He  rested  in  their  "beauty ;  and  never  took  the 
step  which  seemed  inevitable  to  snch  genius, 
namely,  to  explore  the  virtue  which  resides  in 
these  symbols,  and  imparts  this  power,  —  what  is 
that  which  they  themselves  say  ?  He  converted 
the  elements,  which  waited  on  his  command,  into 
entertainments.  He  was  master  of  the  revels  to 
mankind.  Is  it  not  as  if  one  should  have,  through 
majestic  powers  of  science,  the  comets  given  into 
his  hand,  or  the  planets  and  their  moons,  and 
should  draw  them  from  their  orbits  to  glare  with 
the  municipal  fireworks  on  a  holiday  night,  and 
advertise  in  all  towns,  "  very  superior  pyrotechny 
this  evening!"  Are  the  agents  of  nature,  and 
the  power  to  understand  them,  worth  no  more 
than  a  street  serenade,  or  the  breath  of  a  cigar  ? 
One  remembers  again  the  trumpet-text  in  the 
Koran,  —  "  The  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  all 
that  is  between  them,  think  ye  we  have  created 
them  in  jest  ?  "  As  long  as  the  question  is  of 
talent  and  mental  power,  the  world  of  men  has 
net  his  equal  to  show.  But  when  the  question 
is  to  life,  and  its  materials,  and  its  auxiliaries,  how 
dees  he  profit  me  ?  What  does  it  signify  ?  It  is 
but  a  Twelfth  Night,  or  Midsummer-Night's 
Dream,  or  a  Winter  Evening's  Tale  :  what  sig- 
nifies another  picture  more  or  less  ?    The  Egyptian 


SHAKSPEARE  ]    OR,    THE    POET.  215 

verdict  of  the  Shakspeare  Societies  comes  to  mind, 
that  he  was  a  jovial  actor  and  manager.  I  can 
net  marry  this  fact  to  his  verse.  Other  admirable 
men  have  led  lives  in  some  sort  of  keeping  with 
their  thought  ;  but  this  man,  in  wide  contrast. 
Had  he  been  less,  had  he  reached  only  the  com- 
mon measure  of  great  authors,  of  Bacon,  Milton, 
Tasso,  Cervantes,  we  might  leave  the  fact  in  the 
twilight  of  human  fate  :  bat,  that  this  man  of 
men,  he  who  gave  to  the  science  of  mind  a  new 
and  larger  subject  than  had  ever  existed,  and 
planted  the  standard  of  humanity  some  furlongs 
forward  into  Chaos,  —  that  he  should  net  be  wise 
for  himself,  —  it  must  even  go  into  the  world's 
history,  that  the  best  poet  led  an  obscure  and 
profane  life,  using  his  genius  for  the  public 
amusement. 

Well,  other  men,  priest  and  prophet,  Israelite, 
German,  and  Swede,  beheld  the  same  objects : 
they  also  saw  through  them  that  which  was 
contained.  And  to  what  purpose  ?  The  beauty 
straightway  vanished  ;  they  read  commandments, 
all-excluding  mountainous  duty ;  an  obligation, 
a  sadness,  as  of  piled  mountains,  fell  on  them, 
and  life  became  ghastly,  joyless,  a  pilgrim's 
progress,  a  probation,  beleaguered  round  with 
doleful  histories  of  Adam's  fall  and  curse,  behind 


216  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN, 

us ;  with  doomsdays  and  purgatorial  and  penal 
fires  before  us ;  and  the  heart  of  the  seer  and  the 
heart  of  the  listener  sank  in  them. 

It  must  be  conceded  that  these  are  half-views 
of  half-men.  The  world  still  wants  its  poet- 
priest,  a  reconciler,  who  shall  not  trifle  with  Shak- 
speare  the  player,  nor  shall  grope  in  graves  with 
Swedenborg  the  mourner ;  but  who  shall  see, 
speak,  and  act,  with  equal  inspiration.  For  know- 
ledge will  brighten  the  sunshine ;  right  is  more 
beautiful  than  private  affection  ;  and  love  is  com- 
patible with  universal  wisdom. 


NAPOLEON; 


OR, 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD 


VI. 

NAPOLEON;  OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD. 


Among  the  eminent  persons  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  Bonaparte  is  far  the  best  known,  and  the 
most  powerful ;  and  owes  his  predominance  to 
the  fidelity  with  which  he  expresses  the  tone  of 
thought  and  belief,  the  aims  of  the  masses  of 
active  and  cultivated  men.  It  is  Swedenborg's 
theory,  that  every  organ  is  made  up  of  homo- 
geneous particles  j  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  expressed, 
every  whole  is  made  of  similars ;  that  is,  the 
lungs  are  composed  of  infinitely  small  lungs; 
the  liver,  of  infinitely  small  livers ;  the  kidney, 
of  little  kidneys,  &c.  Following  this  analogy, 
if  any  man  is  found  to  carry  with  him  the  power 
and  affections  of  vast  numbers,  if  Napoleon  is 
France,  if  Napoleon  is  Europe,  it  is  because  the 
people  whom  he  sways  are  little  Napoleons. 

In  our  society,  there  is  a  standing  antagonism 
between   the   conservative   and    the    democratic 


220  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

classes ;  between  those  who  have  made  their 
fortunes,  and  the  young  and  the  poor  who  have 
fortunes  to  make  ;  between  the  interests  of  dead 
labor,  — that  is,  the  labor  of  hands  long  ago  still  in 
the  grave,  which  labor  is  now  entombed  in  money 
stocks,  or  in  land  and  buildings  owned  by  idle 
capitalists, — and  the  interests  of  living  labor, 
which  seeks  to  possess  itself  of  land,  and  build- 
ings, and  money  stocks.  The  first  class  is  timid, 
selfish,  illiberal,  hating  innovation,  and  contin- 
ually losing  numbers  by  death.  The  second  class 
is  selfish  also,  encroaching,  bold,  self-relying, 
always  outnumbering  the  other,  and  recruiting  its 
numbers  every  hour  by  births.  It  desires  to  keep 
open  every  avenue  to  the  competition  of  all,  and 
to  multiply  avenues;  —  the  class  of  business  men 
in  America,  in  England,  in  France,  and  through- 
out Europe  ;  the  class  of  industry  and  skill.  Na- 
poleon is  its  representative.  The  instinct  of 
active,  brave,  able  men,  throughout  the  middle 
class  every  where,  has  pointed  out  Napoleon  as 
the  incarnate  Democrat.  He  had  their  virtues 
and  their  vices;  above  all,  he  had  their  spirit 
or  aim.  That  tendency  is  material,  pointing  at 
a  sensual  success,  and  employing  the  richest  and 
most  various  means  to  that  end ;  conversant  with 
mechanical  powers,  highly  intellectual,  widely 
and  accurately  learned  and  skilful,  but  subordi- 


napoleon;  or,  the  man  of  the  world.    221 

nating  all  intellectual  and  spiritual  forces  into 
means  to  a  material  success.  To  be  the  rich 
man,  is  the  ead.  "  God  has  granted,"  says  the 
Koran,  "  to  every  people  a  prophet  in  its  own 
tongue."  Paris,  and  London,  and  New  York, 
the  spirit  of  commerce,  of  money,  and  material 
power,  were  also  to  have  their  prophet ;  and 
Bonaparte  was  qualified  and  sent. 

Every  one  of  the  million  readers  of  anecdotes, 
or  memoirs,  or  lives  of  Napoleon,  delights  in  the 
page,  because  he  studies  in  it  his  own  history. 
Napoleon  is  thoroughly  modern,  and,  at  the  high- 
est point  of  his  fortunes,  has  the  very  spirit  of  the 
newspapers.  He  is  no  saint,  —  to  use  his  own 
word,  "no  capuchin,"  and  he  is  no  hero,  in  the 
high  sense.  The  man  in  the  street  finds  in  him 
the  qualities  and  powers  of  other  men  in  the 
street.  He  finds  him,  like  himself,  by  birth  a 
citizen,  who,  by  very  intelligible  merits,  arrived 
at  such  a  commanding  position,  that  he  could  in^ 
dulge  all  those  tastes  which  the  common  man 
possesses,  but  is  obliged  to  conceal  and  deny  : 
good  society,  good  books,  fast  travelling,  dress, 
dinners,  servants  without  number,  personal  weight, 
the  execution  of  his  ideas,  the  standing  in  the 
attitude  of  a  benefactor  to  all  persons  about 
him,  the  refined  enjoyments  of  pictures,  statues, 
music,  palaces,  and  conventional  honors,  —  pre* 
19* 


222 


REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 


cisely  what  is  agreeable  to  the  heart  of  every 
ma]]  in  the  nineteenth  century, — this  powerful 
man  possessed. 

It  is  true  that  a  man  of  Napoleon's  truth  of 
adaptation  to  the  mind  of  the  masses  around  him, 
becomes  not  merely  representative,  but  actually  a 
monopolizer  and  usurper  of  other  minds.  Thus 
Mirabeau  plagiarized  every  good  thought,  every 
gocd  word,  that  was  spoken  in  France.  Dumont 
relates,  that  he  sat  in  the  gallery  of  the  Conven- 
tion, and  heard  Mirabeau  make  a  speech.  It 
struck  Dumont  that  he  could  fit  it  with  a  pero- 
ration, which  he  wrote  in  pencil  immediately, 
and  showed  it  to  Lord  Elgin,  who  sat  by  him. 
Lord  Elgin  approved  it,  and  Dumont,  in  the 
evening,  showed  it  to  Mirabeau.  Mirabeau  read 
it,  pronounced  it  admirable,  and  declared  he  would 
incorporate  it  into  his  harangue,  to-morrow,  to 
the  Assembly.  "  It  is  impossible/'  said  Dumont, 
"  as,  unfortunately,  I  have  shown  it  to  Lord 
Elgin."  "  If  ypu  have  shown  it  to  Lord  Elgin, 
and  to  fifty  persons  beside,  I  shall  still  speak 
it  to-morrow  :  "  and  he  did  speak  it,  with 
much  effect,  at  the  next  day's  session.  For 
Mirabeau,  with  his  overpowering  personality,  felt 
that  these  things,  which  his  presence  inspired, 
were  as  much  his  own,  as  if  he  had  said  them, 
and  that  his  adoption  of  them  gave  them  their 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR;  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     223 

weight.  Much  more  absolute  and  centralizing 
was  the  successor  to  Mirabeau's  popularity,  and 
to  much  more  than  his  predominance  in  France. 
Indeed,  a  man  of  Napoleon's  stamp  almost  ceases 
to  have  a  private  speech  and  opinion.  He  is  so 
largely  receptive,  and  is  so  placed,  that  he  comes 
to  be  a  bureau  for  all  the  intelligence,  wit,  and 
power,  of  the  age  and  country.  He  gains  the 
battle  ;  he  makes  the  code  ;  he  makes  the  system 
of  weights  and  measures  ;  he  levels  the  Alps  ;  he 
builds  the  road.  All  distinguished  engineers, 
savans,  statists,  report  to  him :  so,  likewise,  do  all 
good  heads  in  every  kind  :  he  adopts  the  best 
measures,  sets  his  stamp  on  them,  and  not  these 
alone,  but  on  every  happy  and  memorable  expres- 
sion. Every  sentence  spoken  by  Napoleon,  and 
every  line  of  his  writing,  deserves  reading,  as  it 
is  the  sense  of  France. 

Bonaparte  was  the  idol  of  common  men, 
because  he  had  in  transcendent  degree  the  qual- 
ities and  powers  of  common  men.  There  is  a 
certain  satifaction  in  coming  down  to  the  lowest 
ground  of  politics,  for  we  get  rid  of  cant  and 
hypocrisy.  Bonaparte  wrought,  in  common  with 
that  great  class  he  represented,  for  power  and 
wealth,  —  but  Bonaparte,  specially,  without  any 
scruple  as  to  the  means.  All  the  sentiments 
which  embarrass  men's  pursuit  of  these  objects, 


224  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

he  set  aside.  The  sentiments  were  for  women 
and  children.  Fontanes,  in  1804,  expressed 
Napoleon's  own  sense,  when,  in  behalf  of  the 
Senate,  he  addressed  him,  —  "  Sire,  the  desire  of 
perfection  is  the  worst  disease  that  ever  afflicted 
the  human  mind."  The  advocates  of  liberty, 
and  of  progress,  are  "  ideologists  ;  "  —  a  word 
of  contempt  often  in  his  mouth  ;  —  "  Necker  is 
an  ideologist :  "   "  Lafayette  is  an  ideologist." 

An  Italian  proverb,  too  well  known,  declares 
that,  "  if  you  would  succeed,  you  must  not  be 
too  good."  It  is  an  advantage,  within  certain 
limits,  to  have  renounced  the  dominion  of  the 
sentiments  of  piety,  gratitude,  and  generosity  ; 
since,  what  was  an  impassable  bar  to  us,  and  still 
is  to  others,  becomes  a  convenient  iveapon  for 
our  purposes ;  just  as  the  river  which  was  a 
formidable  barrier,  winter  transforms  into  the 
smoothest  of  roads. 

Napoleon  renounced,  once  for  all,  sentiments 
and  affections,  and  would  help  himself  with  his 
hands  and  his  head.  With  him  is  no  miracle, 
and  no  magic.  He  is  a  worker  in  brass,  in  iron, 
in  wood,  in  earth,  in  roads,  in  buildings,  in  mon- 
ey, and  in  troops,  and  a  very  consistent  and  wise 
master-workman.  He  is  never  weak  and  literary, 
but  acts  with  the  solidity  and  the  precision  of 
natural  agents.     He  has  not  lost  his  native  sense 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     225 

and  sympathy  with  things.  Men  give  way  be- 
fore such  a  man,  as  before  natural  events.  To 
be  sure,  there  are  men  enough  who  are  immersed 
in  things,  as  farmers,  smiths,  sailors,  and  me- 
chanics generally ;  and  we  know  how  real  and 
solid  such  men  appear  in  the  presence  of  scholars 
and  grammarians :  but  these  men  ordinarily  lack 
the  power  of  arrangement,  and  are  like  hands 
without  a  head.  But  Bonaparte  superadded  to 
this  mineral  and  animal  force,  insight  and  gene- 
ralization, so  that  men  saw  in  him  combined  the 
natural  and  the  intellectual  power,  as  if  the  sea 
and  land  had  taken  flesh  and  begun  to  cipher. 
Therefore  the  land  and  sea  seem  to  presuppose 
him.  He  came  unto  his  own,  and  they  received 
him.  This  ciphering  operative  knows  what  he 
is  working  with,  and  what  is  the  product.  He 
knew  the  properties  of  gold  and  iron,  of  wheels 
and  ships,  of  troops  and  diplomatists,  and  required 
that  each  should  do  after  its  kind. 

The  art  of  war  was  the  game  in  which  he 
exerted  his  arithmetic.  It  consisted,  according  to 
him,  in  having  always  more  forces  than  the  ene- 
my, on  the  point  where  the  enemy  is  attacked, 
or  where  he  attacks  :  and  his  whole  talent  is 
strained  by  endless  manoeuvre  and  evolution,  to 
march  always  on  the  enemy  at  an  angle,  and 
destroy  his  forces  in  detail.     It  is  obvious  that 


226  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

a  very  small  force,  skilfully  and  rapidly  manoeu- 
vring, so  as  always  to  bring  two  men  against  one 
at  the  point  of  engagement,  will  be  an  over- 
match for  a  much  larger  body  of  men. 

The  times,  his  constitution,  and  his  early  circum- 
stances, combined  to  develop  this  pattern  demo- 
crat. He  had  the  virtues  of  his  class,  and  the 
conditions  for  their  activity.  That  common  sense, 
which  no  sooner  respects  any  end,  than  it  finds 
the  means  to  effect  it ;  the  delight  in  the  use  of 
means  ;  in  the  choice,  simplification,  and  com- 
bining of  means;  the  directness  and  thorough- 
ness of  his  work ;  the  prudence  with  which  all 
was  seen,  and  the  energy  with  which  all  was 
done,  make  him  the  natural  organ  and  head  of 
what  I  may  almost  call,  from  its  extent,  the 
modern  party. 

Nature  must  have  far  the  greatest  share  in  every 
success,  and  so  in  his.  Such  a  man  was  wanted, 
and  such  a  man  was  born ;  a  man  of  stone  and 
iron,  capable  of  sitting  on  horseback  sixteen  or 
seventeen  hours,  of  going  many  days  together 
without  rest  or  food,  except  by  snatches,  and  with 
the  speed  and  spring  of  a  tiger  in  action  ;  a  man 
not  embarrassed  by  any  scruples  :  compact,  in- 
stant, selfish,  prudent,  and  of  a  perception  which 
did  not  suffer  itself  to  be  baulked  or  misled  by  any 
pretences  of  others,  or  any  superstition,  or  any 


NAPOLEON  J  OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.  22T 


heat  or  haste  of  his  own.  "  My  hand  of  iron," 
he  said,  "  was  not  at  the  extremity  of  my  arm  j 
it  was  immediately  connected  with  my  head." 
He  respected  the  power  of  nature  and  fortune, 
and  ascribed  to  it  his  superiority,  instead  of  valu- 
ing himself,  like  inferior  men,  on  his  opinionative- 
ness,  and  waging  war  with  nature.  His  favorite 
rhetoric  lay  in  allusion  to  his  star ;  and  he  pleased 
himself,  as  well  as  the  people,  when  he  styled 
himself  the  "Child  of  Destiny."  "  They  charge 
me,"  he  said,  "  with  the  commission  of  great 
crimes  :  men  of  my  stamp  do  not  commit  crimes. 
Nothing  has  been  more  simple  than  my  elevation  : 
'tis  in  vain  to  ascribe  it  to  intrigue  or  crime  :  it 
was  owing  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  times,  and  to 
my  reputation  of  having  fought  well  against  the 
enemies  of  my  country.  I  have  always  marched 
with  the  opinion  of  great  masses,  and  with  events. 
Of  what  use,  then,  would  crimes  be  to  me  ? " 
Again  he  said,  speaking  of  his  son,  "  My  son  can 
not  replace  me  ;  I  could  not  replace  myself.  I 
am  the  creature  of  circumstances." 

He  had  a  directness  of  action  never  before 
combined  with  so  much  comprehension.  He  is  a 
realist,  terrific  to  all  talkers,  and  confused  truth- 
obscuring  persons.  He  sees  where  the  matter 
hinges,  throws  himself  on  the  precise  point  of 
resistance,   and   slights   all   other  considerations. 


228  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

He  is  strong  in  the  right  manner,  namely,  by  in- 
sight. He  never  blundered  into  victory,  but  won 
his  battles  in  his  head,  before  he  won  them  on 
the  field.  His  principal  means  are  in  himself.  He 
asks  counsel  of  no  other.  In  1796,  he  writes  to 
the  Directory ;  "  I  have  conducted  the  campaign 
without  consulting  any  one.  I  should  have  done 
no  good,  if  I  had  been  under  the  necessity  of 
conforming  to  the  notions  of  another  person.  I 
have  gained  some  advantages  over  superior  forces, 
and  when  totally  destitute  of  every  thing,  because, 
in  the  persuasion  that  your  confidence  was  reposed 
in  me,  my  actions  were  as  prompt  as  my  thoughts." 
History  is  full,  down  to  this  day,  of  the  im- 
becility of  kings  and  governors.  They  are  a 
class  of  persons  much  to  be  pitied,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  should  do.  The  weavers 
strike  for  bread  ;  and  the  king  and  his  ministers, 
not  knowing  what  to  do,  meet  them  with 
bayonets.  But  Napoleon  understood  his  business. 
Here  was  a  man  who,  in  each  moment  and 
emergency,  knew  what  to  do  next.  It  is  an 
immense  comfort  and  refreshment  to  the  spirits, 
not  only  of  kings,  but  of  citizens.  Few  men 
have  any  next ;  they  live  from  hand  to  mouth, 
without  plan,  and  are  ever  at  the  end  of  their 
line,  and,  after  each  action,  wait  for  an  impulse 
from  abroad.     Napoleon  had  been  the  first  man 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR,  THE  MAN  OP  THE  WORLD.     229 

of  the  world,  if  his  ends  had  been  purely  public. 
As  he  is,  he  inspires  confidence  and  vigor  by  the 
extraordinary  unity  of  his  action.  He  is  firm, 
sure,  self-denying,  self-postponing,  sacrificing  every 
thing  to  his  aim,  —  money,  troops,  generals,  and 
his  own  safety  also,  to  his  aim ;  not  misled,  like 
common  adventurers,  by  the  splendor  of  his  own 
means.  "  Incidents  ought  not  to  govern  policy," 
he  said,  "but  policy,  incidents."  "  To  be  hurried 
away  by  every  event,  is  to  have  no  political 
system  at  all."  His  victories  were  only  so  many 
doors,  and  he  never  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of 
his  way  onward,  in  the  dazzle  and  uproar  of  the 
present  circumstance.  He  knew  what  to  do,  and 
he  flew  to  his  mark.  He  would  shorten  a  straight 
line  to  come  at  his  object.  Horrible  anecdotes 
may,  no  doubt,  be  collected  from  his  history,  of 
the  price  at  which  he  bought  his  successes  ;  but 
he  must  not  therefore  be  set  down  as  cruel ;  but 
only  as  one  who  knew  no  impediment  to  his 
will ;  not  bloodthirsty,  not  cruel,  —  but  wo  to 
what  thing  or  person  stood  in  his  way  !  Not 
bloodthirsty,  but  not  sparing  of  blood,  —  and 
pitiless.  He  saw  only  the  object :  the  obstacle 
must  give  way.  "  Sire,  General  Clarke  can  not 
combine  with  General  Junot,  for  the  dreadful  fire 
of  the  Austrian  battery." — "Let  him  carry  the 
battery."  —  "  Sire,  every  regiment  that  approaches 
20 


230  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  heavy  artillery  is  sacrificed  :  Sire,  what 
orders  ?  "  —  "  Forward,  forward  !"  Seruzier,  a 
colonel  of  artillery,  gives,  in  his  Military  Memoirs, 
the  following  sketch  of  a  scene  after  the  battle 
of  Austerlitz.  —  "At  the  moment  in  which  the 
Russian  army  was  making  its  retreat,  painfully, 
but  in  good  order,  on  the  ice  of  the  lake,  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  came  riding  at  full  speed 
toward  the  artillery.  '  You  are  losing  time,'  he 
cried ;  '  fire  upon  those  masses ;  they  must  be 
engulfed  :  fire  upon  the  ice  !  '  The  order 
remained  unexecuted  for  ten  minutes.  In  vain 
several  officers  and  myself  were  placed  on  the 
slope  of  a  hill  to  produce  the  effect :  their  balls 
and  mine  rolled  upon  the  ice,  without  breaking  it 
up.  Seeing  that,  I  tried  a  simple  method  of 
elevating  light  howitzers.  The  almost  perpendic- 
ular fall  of  the  heavy  projectiles  produced  the 
desired  effect.  My  method  was  immediately 
followed  by  the  adjoining  batteries,  and  in  less 
than  no  time  we  buried  "  some  *  "  thousands  of 
Russians  and  Austrians  under  the  waters  of  the 
lake." 

In  the  plenitude  of  his  resources,  every  obsta- 
cle seemed  to  vanish.     "  There  shall  be  no  Alps," 


*  As  I  quote  at  second  hand,  and  cannot  procure  Seruzier,  I 
dare  not  adopt  the  high  figure  I  find. 


napoleon;  or,  the  man  of  the  world.    231 

he  said  ;  and  he  built  his  perfect  roads,  climbing 
by  graded  galleries  their  steepest  precipices,  until 
Italy  was  as  open  to  Paris  as  any  town  in  France. 
He  laid  his  bones  to,  and  wrought  for  his  crown. 
Having  decided  what  was  to  be  done,  he  did  that 
with  might  and  main.  He  put  out  all  his  strength. 
He  risked  every  thing,  and  spared  nothing,  neither 
ammunition,  nor  money,  nor  troops,  nor  generals, 
nor  himself. 

We  like  to  see  every  thing  do  its  office  after  its 
kind,  whether  it  be  a  milch-cow  or  a  rattle-snake  ; 
and,  if  fighting  be  the  best  mode  of  adjusting 
national  differences,  (as  large  majorities  of  men 
seem  to  agree,)  certainly  Bonaparte  was  right  in 
making  it  thorough.  "  The  grand  principle  of 
war,"  he  said,  "  was,  that  an  army  ought  always 
to  be  ready,  by  day  and  by  night,  and  at  all  hours, 
to  make  all  the  resistance  it  is  capable  of  making." 
He  never  economized  his  ammunition,  but,  on  a 
hostile  position,  rained  a  torrent  of  iron,  —  shells, 
balls,  grape-shot,  —  to  annihilate  all  defence.  On 
any  point  of  resistance,  he  concentrated  squadron 
on  squadron  in  overwhelming  numbers,  until  it 
was  swept  out  of  existence.  To  a  regiment  of 
horse-chasseurs  at  Lobenstein,  two  days  before 
the  battle  of  Jena,  Napoleon  said,  "  My  lads,  you 
must  not  fear  death ;  when  soldiers  brave  death, 
they  drive  him  into  the  enemy's  ranks."     In  the 


232  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

fury  of  assault,  he  no  more  spared  himself.  He 
went  to  the  edge  of  his  possibility.  It  is  plain 
that  in  Italy  he  did  what  he  could,  and  all  that 
he  could.  He  came,  several  times,  within  an 
inch  of  ruin ;  and  his  own  person  was  all  but 
lost.  He  was  flung  into  the  marsh  at  Areola. 
The  Austrians  were  between  him  and  his  troops, 
in  the  melee,  and  he  was  brought  off  with  despe- 
rate efforts.  At  Lonato,  and  at  other  places,  he 
was  on  the  point  of  being  taken  prisoner.  He 
fought  sixty  battles.  He  had  never  enough. 
Each  victory  was  a  new  weapon.  "  My  power 
would  fall,  were  I  not  to  support  it  by  new 
achievments.  Conquest  has  made  me  what  I  am, 
and  conquest  must  maintain  me."  He  felt,  with 
every  wise  man,  that  as  much  life  is  needed  for 
conservation,  as  for  creation.  We  are  always  in 
peril,  always  in  a  bad  plight,  just  on  the  edge  of 
destruction,  and  only  to  be  saved  by  invention 
and  courage. 

This  vigor  was  guarded  and  tempered  by  the 
coldest  prudence  and  punctuality.  A  thunderbolt 
in  the  attack,  he  was  found  invulnerable  in  his 
intrenchments.  His  very  attack  was  never  the 
inspiration  of  courage,  but  the  result  of  calcula- 
tion. His  idea  of  the  best  defence  consists  in 
being  still  the  attacking  party.  u  My  ambition," 
he   says,    "was    great,    but    was    of    a   cold  na- 


NAPOLEON  J    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     233 

ture."  In  one  of  his  conversations  with  Las 
Casas,  he  remarked,  "  As  to  moral  courage,  I 
have  rarely  met  with  the  two-o'clock-in-the- 
morning  kind  :  I  mean  unprepared  courage,  that 
which  is  necessary  on  an  unexpected  occasion  ; 
and  which,  in  spite  of  the  most  unforeseen  events, 
leaves  full  freedom  of  judgment  and  decision  :  " 
and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  he  was 
himself  eminently  endowed  with  this  "  two- 
o'clock-in-the-morning  courage,  and  that  he  had 
met  with  few  persons  equal  to  himself  in  this 
respect." 

Every  thing  depended  on  the  nicety  of  his  com- 
binations, and  the  stars  were  not  more  punctual 
than  his  arithmetic.  His  personal  attention  de- 
scended to  the  smallest  particulars.  "At  Monte- 
bello,  I  ordered  Kellermann  to  attack  with  eight 
hundred  horse,  and  with  these  he  separated  the 
six  thousand  Hungarian  grenadiers,  before  the 
very  eyes  of  the  Austrian  cavalry.  This  cavalry 
was  half  a  league  off,  and  required  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  arrive  on  the  field  of  action  ;  and  I 
have  observed,  that  it  is  always  these  quarters  of 
an  hour  that  decide  the  fate  of  a  battle."  "  Be- 
fore he  fought  a  battle,  Bonaparte  thought  little 
about  what  he  should  do  in  case  of  success,  but  a 
great  deal  about  what  he  should  do  in  case  of  a 
reverse  of  fortune."  The  same  prudence  and 
20* 


234  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

good  sense  mark  all  his  behavior.  His  instruc- 
tions to  his  secretary  at  the  Tuilleries  are  worth 
remembering.  "  During  the  night,  enter  my 
chamber  as  seldom  as  possible.  Do  not  awake 
me  when  you  have  any  good  news  to  communi- 
cate ;  with  that  there  is  no  hurry.  But  when  you 
bring  bad  news,  rouse  me  instantly,  for  then  there 
is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost."  It  was  a  whimsical 
economy  of  the  same  kind  which  dictated  his 
practice,  when  general  in  Italy,  in  regard  to  his 
burdensome  correspondence.  He  directed  Bour- 
rienne  to  leave  all  letters  unopened  for  three 
weeks,  and  then  observed  with  satisfaction  how 
large  a  part  of  the  correspondence  had  thus  dis- 
posed of  itself,  and  no  longer  required  an  answer. 
His  achievement  of  business  was  immense,  and 
enlarges  the  known  powers  of  man.  There  have 
been  many  working  kings,  from  Ulysses  to  Wil- 
liam of  Orange,  but  none  who  accomplished  a 
tithe  of  this  man's  performance. 

To  these  gifts  of  nature,  Napoleon  added  the 
advantage  of  having  been  born  to  a  private  and 
humble  fortune.  In  his  later  days,  he  had  the 
weakness  of  wishing  to  add  to  his  crowns  and 
badges  the  prescription  of  aristocracy  :  but  he 
knew  his  debt  to  his  austere  education,  and  made 
no  secret  of  his  contempt  for  the  born  kings,  and 
for  "  the  hereditary  asses,"  as  he  coarsely  styled 


NAPOLEON  I    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE   WORLD.     235 


the  Bourbons.  He  said  that,  "  in  their  exile,  they 
had  learned  nothing,  and  forgot  nothing."  Bon- 
aparte had  passed  through  all  the  degrees  of  mili- 
tary service,  but  also  was  citizen  before  he  was 
emperor,  and  so  has  the  key  to  citizenship.  His 
remarks  and  estimates  discover  the  information 
and  justness  of  measurement  of  the  middle  class. 
Those  who  had  to  deal  with  him,  found  that  he 
was  not  to  be  imposed  upon,  but  could  cipher  as 
well  as  another  man.  This  appears  in  all  parts 
of  his  Memoirs,  dictated  at  St.  Helena.  When 
the  expenses  of  the  empress,  of  his  household,  of 
his  palaces,  had  accumulated  great  debts,  Napoleon 
examined  the  bills  of  the  creditors  himself,  de- 
tected overcharges  and  errors,  and  reduced  the 
claims  by  considerable  sums. 

His  grand  weapon,  namely,  the  millions  whom 
he  directed,  he  owed  to  the  representative  char- 
acter which  clothed  him.  He  interests  us  as  he 
stands  for  France  and  for,  Europe  ;  and  he  exists 
as  captain  and  king,  only  as  far  as  the  Revolution, 
or  the  interest  of  the  industrious  masses,  found 
an  organ  and  a  leader  in  him.  In  the  social 
interests,  he  knew  the  meaning  and  value  of 
labor,  and  threw  himself  naturally  on  that  side. 
I  like  an  incident  mentioned  by  one  of  his  biog- 
raphers at  St.  Helena.  "  When  walking  with 
Mrs.  Balcombe,    some   servants,   carrying   heavy 


236  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

boxes,  passed  by  on  the  road,  and  Mrs.  Balcombe 
desired  them,  in  rather  an  angry  tone,  to  keep 
back.  Napoleon  interfered,  saying,  '  Respect  the 
burden,  Madam.'  "  In  the  time  of  the  empire, 
he  directed  attention  to  the  improvement  and 
embellishment  of  the  markets  of  the  capital. 
"The  market-place,"  he  said,  "is  the  Louvre  of 
the  common  people."  The  principal  works  that 
have  survived  him  are  his  magnificent  roads. 
He  filled  the  troops  with  his  spirit,  and  a  sort 
of  freedom  and  companionship  grew  up  between 
him  and  them,  which  the  forms  of  his  court 
never  permitted  between  the  officers  and  himself. 
They  performed,  under  his  eye,  that  which  no 
others  could  do.  The  best  document  of  his 
relation  to  his  troops  is  the  order  of  the  day 
on  the  morning  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  in 
which  Napoleon  promises  the  troops  that  he  will 
keep  his  person  out  of  reach  of  fire.  This  de- 
claration, which  is  the  reverse  of  that  ordinarily 
made  by  generals  and  sovereigns  on  the  eve  of  a 
battle,  sufficiently  explains  the  devotion  of  the 
army  to  their  leader. 

But  though  there  is  in  particulars  this  identity 
between  Napoleon  and  the  mass  of  the  people, 
his  real  strength  lay  in  their  conviction  that  he 
was  their  representative  in  his  genius  and  aims, 
not  only  when   he  courted,  but  when  he   con- 


NAPOLEON  J    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     237 

trolled  and  even  when  he  decimated  them  by  his 
conscriptions.  He  knew,  as  well  as  any  Jacobin 
in  France,  how  to  philosophize  on  liberty  and 
equality ;  and,  when  allusion  was  made  to  the 
precious  blood  of  centuries,  which  was  spilled 
by  the  killing  of  the  Due  d'Enghien,  he  sug- 
gested, "Neither  is  my  blood  ditch-water."  The 
people  felt  that  no  longer  the  throne  was  occu- 
pied, and  the  land  sucked  of  its  nourishment, 
by  a  small  class  of  legitimates,  secluded  from  all 
community  with  the  children  of  the  soil,  and 
holding  the  ideas  and  superstitions  of  a  long- 
forgotten  state  of  society.  Instead  of  that  vam- 
pyre,  a  man  of  themselves  held,  in  the  Tuilleries, 
knowledge  and  ideas  like  their  own,  opening,  of 
course,  to  them  and  their  children,  all  places  of 
power  and  trust.  The  day  of  sleepy,  selfish 
policy,  ever  narrowing  the  means  and  opportuni- 
ties of  young  men,  was  ended,  and  a  day  of 
expansion  and  demand  was  come.  A  market  for 
all  the  powers  and  productions  of  man  was 
opened ;  brilliant  prizes  glittered  in  the  eyes  of 
youth  and  talent.  The  old,  iron-bound,  feudal 
Prance  was  changed  into  a  young  Ohio  or  New 
York ;  and  those  who  smarted  under  the  imme- 
diate rigors  of  the  new  monarch,  pardoned  them, 
as  the  necessary  severities  of  the  military  system 
which  had  driven  out  the  oppressor.      And  even 


238  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

when  the  majority  of  the  people  had  begun  to 
ask,  whether  they  had  really  gained  any  thing 
under  the  exhausting  levies  of  men  and  money 
of  the  new  master, — the  whole  talent  of  the 
country,  in  every  rank  and  kindred,  took  his 
part,  and  defended  him  as  its  natural  patron. 
In  1814,  when  advised  to  rely  on  the  higher 
classes,  Napoleon  said  to  those  around  him, 
"  Gentlemen,  in  the  situation  in  which  I 
stand,  my  only  nobility  is  the  rabble  of  the 
Faubourgs." 

Napoleon  met  this  natural  expectation.  The 
necessity  of  his  position  required  a  hospitality  to 
every  sort  of  talent,  and  its  appointment  to  trusts  j 
and  his  feeling  went  along  with  this  policy. 
Like  every  superior  person,  he  undoubtedly  felt 
a  desire  for  men  and  compeers,  and  a  wish  to 
measure  his  power  with  other  masters,  and  an 
impatience  of  fools  and  underlings.  In  Italy,  he 
sought  for  men,  and  found  none.  "  Good  God  !  " 
he  said,  "  how  rare  men  are  !  There  are  eighteen 
millions  in  Italy,  and  I  have  with  difficulty  found 
two,  —  Dandolo  and  Melzi."  In  later  years,  with 
larger  experience,  his  respect  for  mankind  was 
not  increased.  In  a  moment  of  bitterness,  he 
said,  to  one  of  his  oldest  friends,  "  Men  deserve 
the  contempt  with  which  they  inspire  me.  I 
have  only  to  put  some  gold  lace  on  the  coat  of 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     239 

my  virtuous  republicans,  and  they  immediately 
become  just  what  I  wish  them."  This  impatience 
at  levity  was,  however,  an  oblique  tribute  of 
respect  to  those  able  persons  who  commanded  his 
regard,  not  only  when  he  found  them  friends  and 
coadjutors,  but  also  when  they  resisted  his  will. 
He  could  not  confound  Fox  and  Pitt,  Carnot, 
Lafayette,  and  Bernadotte,  with  the  danglers  of 
his  court ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  detraction  which 
his  systematic  egotism  dictated  toward  the  great 
captains  who  conquered  with  and  for  him,  ample 
acknowledgments  are  made  by  him  to  Lannes, 
Duroc,  Kleber,  Dessaix,  Massena,  Murat,  Ney,  and 
Augereau.  If  he  felt  himself  their  patron,  and 
the  founder  of  their  fortunes,  as  when  he  said,  "I 
made  my  generals  out  of  mud,"  he  could  not  hide 
his  satisfaction  in  receiving  from  them  a  second- 
ing and  support  commensurate  with  the  grandeur 
of  his  enterprise.  In  the  Russian  campaign,  he 
was  so  much  impressed  by  the  courage  and 
resources  of  Marshal  Ney,  that  he  said,  "  I  have 
two  hundred  millions  in  my  coffers,  and  I  would 
give  them  all  for  Ney."  The  characters  which 
he  has  drawn  of  several  of  his  marshals,  are 
discriminating,  and,  though  they  did  not  content 
the  insatiable  vanity  of  French  officers,  are,  no 
doubt,  substantially  just.  And,  in  fact,  every 
species  of  merit  was  sought  and  advanced  under 


240  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

his  government.  "  I  know,"  he  said,  "  the  depth 
and  draught  of  water  of  every  one  of  my  gen- 
erals." Natural  power  was  sure  to  be  well 
received  at  his  court.  Seventeen  men,  in  his 
time,  were  raised  from  common  soldiers  to  the 
rank  of  king,  marshal,  duke,  or  general  •  and  the 
crosses  of  his  Legion  of  Honor  were  given  to 
personal  valor,  and  not  to  family  connexion. 
"  When  soldiers  have  been  baptized  in  the  fire 
of  a  battle-field,  they  have  all  one  rank  in  my 
eyes." 

When  a  natural  king  becomes  a  titular  king, 
every  body  is  pleased  and  satisfied.  The  Revolu- 
tion entitled  the  strong  populace  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Antoine,  and  every  horse-boy  and  powder- 
monkey  in  the  army,  to  look  on  Napoleon,  as 
flesh  of  his  flesh,  and  the  creature  of  his  party  : 
but  there  is  something  in  the  success  of  grand 
talent  which  enlists  an  universal  sympathy.  For, 
in  the  prevalence  of  sense  and  spirit  over  stupidity 
and  malversation,  all  reasonable  men  have  an 
interest ;  and,  as  intellectual  beings,  we  feel  the 
air  purified  by  the  electric  shock,  when  material 
force  is  overthrown  by  intellectual  energies.  As 
soon  as  we  are  removed  out  of  the  reach  of  local 
and  accidental  partialities,  man  feels  that  Napoleon 
fights  for  him  ;  these  are  honest  victories  ;  this 
strong  steam-engine  does  our  work.     Whatever 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     241 


appeals  to  the  imagination,  by  transcending  the 
ordinary  limits  of  human  ability,  wonderfully 
encourages  and  liberates  us.  This  capacious 
head,  revolving  and  disposing  sovereignly  trains 
of  affairs,  and  animating  such  multitudes  of 
agents ;  this  eye,  w^hich  looked  through  Europe  ; 
this  prompt  invention  ;  this  inexhaustible  resource  ; 
—  wThat  events!  w^hat  romantic  pictures!  what 
strange  situations  !  —  when  spying  the  Alps,  by  a 
sunset  in  the  Sicilian  sea  ;  drawing  up  his  army 
for  battle,  in  sight  of  the  Pyramids,  and  saying 
to  his  troops,  "  From  the  tops  of  those  pyramids, 
forty  centuries  look  down  on  you  ;  "  fording  the 
Red  Sea  ;  wading  in  the  gulf  of  the  Isthmus  of 
Suez.  On  the  shore  of  Plotemais,  gigantic 
projects  agitated  him,  "  Had  Acre  fallen,  I 
should  have  changed  the  face  of  the  w^orld." 
His  army,  on  the  night  of  the  battle  of  Austerlitz, 
which  was  the  anniversary  of  his  inauguration  as 
Emperor,  presented  him  with  a  bouquet  of  forty 
standards  taken  in  the  fight.  Perhaps  it  is  a 
little  puerile,  the  pleasure  he  took  in  making  these 
contrasts  glaring ;  as  when  he  pleased  himself 
with  making  kings  wait  in  his  antechambers,  at 
Tilsit,  at  Paris,  and  at  Erfurt. 

We  cannot,  in  the  universal  imbecility,  inde- 
cision, and  indolence  of  men,  sufficiently  congrat- 
ulate ourselves  on  this  strong  and  readv  actor,  who 
21 


242  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

took  occasion  by  the  beard,  and  showed  us  how 
much  may  be  accomplished  by  the  mere  force  of 
such  virtues  as  all  men  possess  in  less  degrees  ; 
namely,  by  punctuality,  by  personal  attention,  by 
courage,  and  thoroughness.  "  The  Austrians," 
he  said,  "do  not  know  the  value  of  time."  I 
should  cite  him,  in  his  earlier  years,  as  a  model 
of  prudence.  His  power  does  not  consist  in  any 
wild  or  extravagant  force  ;  in  any  enthusiasm, 
like  Mahomet's  ;  or  singular  power  of  persuasion  ; 
but  in  the  exercise  of  common  sense  on  each 
emergency,  instead  of  abiding  by  rules  and  cus- 
toms. The  lesson  he  teaches  is  that  which 
vigor  always  teaches,  —  that  there  is  always  room 
for  it.  To  what  heaps  of  cowardly  doubts  is  not 
that  man's  life  an  answer.  When  he  appeared,  it 
was  the  belief  of  all  military  men  that  there  could 
be  nothing  new  in  war  ;  as  it  is  the  belief  of  men 
to-day,  that  nothing  new  can  be  undertaken  in 
politics,  or  in  church,  or  in  letters,  or  in  trade,  or 
in  farming,  or  in  our  social  manners  and  customs ; 
and  as  it  is,  at  all  times,  the  belief  of  society  that 
the  world  is  used  up.  But  Bonaparte  knew  bet- 
ter than  society  ;  and,  moreover,  knew  that  he 
knew  better.  I  think  all  men  know  better  than 
they  do  ;  know  that  the  institutions  we  so  volubly 
commend  are  go-carts  and  baubles  ;  but  they  dare 
not    trust  their  presentiments.     Bonaparte  relied 


NAPOLEON  ;    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE   WORLD.     243 

on  his  own  sense,  and  did  not  care  a  bean  for  other 
people's.  The  world  treated  his  novelties  just  as 
it  treats  every  body's  novelties.  — made  infinite  ob- 
jection ;  mustered  all  the  impediments :  but  he 
snapped  his  ringer  at  their  objections.  "  What 
creates  great  difficulty,"  he  remarks,  "  in  the  pro- 
fession of  the  land-commander,  is  the  necessity 
cf  feeding  so  many  men  and  animals.  If  he 
allows  himself  to  be  guided  by  the  commissaries, 
he  will  never  stir,  and  all  his  expeditions  will 
fail."  An  example  of  his  common  sense  is  what 
he  says  of  the  passage  of  the  Alps  in  winter, 
which,  all  writers,  one  repeating  after  the  other, 
had  described  as  impracticable.  "  The  winter," 
says  Napoleon,  "  is  not  the  most  unfavorable  sea- 
son for  the  passage  of  lofty  mountains.  The 
snow  is  then  firm,  the  iveather  settled,  and  there 
is  nothing  to  fear  from  avalanches,  the  real  and 
only  danger  to  be  apprehended  in  the  Alps.  On 
these  high  mountains,  there  are  often  very  fine 
days  in  December,  of  a  dry  cold,  with  extreme 
calmness  in  the  air."  Read  his  account,  too,  of 
the  way  in  which  battles  are  gained.  "  In  all 
battles,  a  moment  occurs,  when  the  bravest  troops, 
after  having  made  the  greatest  efforts,  feel  inclined 
to  run.  That  terror  proceeds  from  a  want  of  con- 
fidence in  their  own  courage  ;  and  it  only  requires 
a  slight  opportunity,  a  pretence,  to  restore  conn- 


244  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

dence  to  them.  The  art  is  to  give  rise  to  the 
opportunity,  and  to  invent  the  pretence.  At 
Areola,  I  won  the  battle  with  twenty-five  horse- 
men. I  seized  that  moment  of  lassitude,  gave 
every  man  a  trumpet,  and  gained  the  day  with 
this  handful.  You  see  that  two  armies  are  two 
bodies  which  meet,  and  endeavor  to  frighten  each 
other :  a  moment  of  panic  occurs,  and  that  mo- 
ment must  be  turned  to  advantage.  When  a  man 
has  been  present  in  many  actions,  he  distinguishes 
that  moment  without  difficulty :  it  is  as  easy  as 
casting  up  an  addition." 

This  deputy  of  the  nineteenth  century  added 
to  his  gifts  a  capacity  for  speculation  on  general 
topics.  He  delighted  in  running  through  the 
range  of  practical,  of  literary,  and  of  abstract 
questions.  His  opinion  is  always  original,  and  to 
the  purpose.  On  the  voyage  to  Egypt,  he  liked, 
after  dinner,  to  fix  on  three  or  four  persons  to 
support  a  proposition,  and  as  many  to  oppose  it. 
He  gave  a  subject,  and  the  discussions  turned 
on  questions  of  religion,  the  different  kinds  of 
government,  and  the  art  of  war.  One  day,  he 
asked,  whether  the  planets  were  inhabited  ?  On 
another,  what  was  the  age  of  the  world  ?  Then 
he  proposed^  to  consider  the  probability  of  the  des- 
truction of  the  globe,  either  by  water  or  by  fire  : 
at  another  time,  the  truth  or  fallacy  of  presenti- 


THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     245 

merits,  and  the  interpretation  of  dreams.  He  was 
very  fond  of  talking  of  religion.  In  1S06,  he 
conversed  with  Fournier,  bishop  of  Montpellier, 
on  matters  of  theology.  There  were  two  points 
on  which  they  could  not  agree,  viz.,  that  of  hell, 
and  that  of  salvation  out  of  the  pale  of  the  church. 
The  Emperor  told  Josephine,  that  he  disputed  like 
a  devil  on  these  two  points,  on  which  the  bishop 
was  inexorable.  To  the  philosophers  he  readily 
yielded  all  that  was  proved  against  religion  as  the 
work  of  men  and  time  ;  but  he  would  not  hear 
of  materialism.  One  fine  night,  on  deck,  amid  a 
clatter  of  materialism,  Bonaparte  pointed  to  the 
stars,  and  said,  "  You  may  talk  as  long  as  you 
please,  gentlemen,  but  who  made  all  that  ?  "  He 
delighted  in  the  conversation  of  men  of  science, 
particularly  of  Monge  and  Berthollet ;  but  the 
men  of  letters  he  slighted  ;  "  they  were  manufac- 
turers of  phrases."  Of  medicine,  too,  he  was 
fond  of  talking,  and  with  those  of  its  practition- 
ers whom  he  most  esteemed,  —  with  Corvisart  at 
Paris,  and  with  Antonomarchi  at  St.  Helena. 
"  Relieve  me,"  he  said  to  the  last,  "  we  had 
better  leave  off  all  these  remedies :  life  is  a  fort- 
ress which  neither  you  nor  I  know  any  thing 
about.  Why  throw  obstacles  in  the  way  of  its 
defence  ?  Its  own  means  are  superior  to  all  the 
apparatus  of  your  laboratories.  Corvisart  candidly 
21* 


246  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

agreed  with  me,  that  all  your  filthy  mixtures  are 
good  for  nothing.  Medicine  is  a  collection  of 
uncertain  prescriptions,  the  results  of  which,  taken 
collectively,  are  more  fatal  than  useful  to  man- 
kind. Water,  air,  and  cleanliness,  are  the  chief 
articles  in  my  pharmacopeia." 

His  memoirs,  dictated  to  Count  Montholon  and 
General  Gourgaud,  at  St.  Helena,  have  great 
value,  after  all  the  deduction  that,  it  seems,  is  to 
be  made  from  them,  on  account  of  his  known 
disingenuousness.  He  has  the  good-nature  of 
strength  and  conscious  superiority.  I  admire  his 
simple,  clear  narrative  of  his  battles;  —  good  as 
Caesar's ;  his  good-natured  and  sufficiently  re- 
spectful account  of  Marshal  Wurmser  and  his 
other  antagonists,  and  his  own  equality  as  a 
writer  to.  his  varying  subject.  The  most  agree- 
able portion  is  the  Campaign  in  Egypt. 

He  had  hours  of  thought  and  wisdom.  In  inter- 
vals of  leisure,  either  in  the  camp  or  the  palace, 
Napoleon  appears  as  a  man  of  genius,  directing 
on  abstract  questions  the  native  appetite  for  truth, 
and  the  impatience  of  words,  he  was  wont  to 
show  in  war.  He  could  enjoy  every  play  of 
invention,  a  romance,  a  bon  mot,  as  well  as  a 
stratagem  in  a  campaign.  He  delighted  to  fasci- 
nate Josephine  and  her  ladies,  in  a  dim-lighted 
apartment,  by  the  terrors  of  a  fiction,  to  which 


NAPOLEON  J    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     247 

his  voice   and  dramatic  power  lent   every  addi- 
tion. 

I  call  Napoleon  the  agent  or  attorney  of  the 
middle  class  of  modern  society ;  of  the  throng 
who  fill  the  markets,  shops,  counting-houses, 
manufactories,  ships,  of  the  modern  world,  aim- 
ing to  be  rich.  He  was  the  agitator,  the  de- 
stroyer of  prescription,  the  internal  improver,  the 
liberal,  the  radical,  the  inventor  of  means,  the 
opener  of  doors  and  markets,  the  subverter  of 
monopoly  and  abuse.  Of  course,  the  rich  and 
aristocratic  did  not  like  him.  England,  the  cen- 
tre of  capital,  and  Rome  and  Austria,  centres  of 
tradition  and  genealogy,  opposed  him.  The  con- 
sternation of  the  dull  and  conservative  classes, 
the  terror  of  the  foolish  old  men  and  old  women 
of  the  Roman  conclave,  —  who  in  their  despair 
took  hold  of  any  thing,  and  would  cling  to  red- 
hot  iron,  —  the  vain  attempts  of  statists  to  amuse 
and  deceive  him,  of  the  emperor  of  Austria  to 
bribe  him  ;  and  the  instinct  of  the  young,  ardent, 
and  active  men,  every  where,  which  pointed  him 
out  as  the  giant  of  the  middle  class,  make  his 
history  bright  and  commanding.  He  had  the 
virtues  of  the  masses  of  his  constituents :  he  had 
also  their  vices.  I  am  sorry  that  the  brilliant 
picture  has  its  reverse.  But  that  is  the  fatal 
quality   which   we    discover    in    our    pursuit    of 


248  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

wealth,  that  it  is  treacherous,  and  is  bought  by 
the  breaking  cr  weakening  of  the  sentiments : 
and  it  is  inevitable  that  we  should  find  the  same 
fact  in  the  history  of  this  champion,  who  pro- 
posed to  himself  simply  a  brilliant  career,  without 
any  stipulation  cr  scruple  concerning  the  means. 

Bonaparte  was  singularly  destitute  of  generous 
sentiments.  The  highest-placed  individual  in 
the  mcst  cultivated  age  and  population  of  the 
world,  —  he  has  net  the  merit  of  common  truth 
and  honesty.  He  is  unjust  to  his  generals ; 
egotistic,  and  monopolizing  ;  meanly  stealing  the 
credit  of  their  great  actions  from  Kellermann, 
from  Eernadctte  ;  intriguing  to  involve  his  faith- 
ful Jimet  in  hopeless  bankruptcy,  in  order  to 
drive  him  to  a  distance  from  Paris,  because  the 
familiarity  of  his  manners  offends  the  new  pride 
of  his  throne.  He  is  a  boundless  liar.  The 
official  paper,  his  "  Moniteurs,"  and  all  his  bul- 
letins, are  proverbs  for  saying  what  he  wished  to 
be  believed  ;  and  worse,  — he  sat,  in  his  premature 
eld  age,  in  his  lonely  island,  coldly  falsifying 
facts,  and  dates,  and  characters,  and  giving  to 
history  a  theatrical  eclat.  Like  all  Frenchmen, 
he  has  a  passion  for  stage  effect.  Every  action 
that  breathes  of  generosity  is  poisoned  by  this 
calculation.  His  star,  his  love  of  glory,  his  doc- 
trine  of    the   immortality   of   the   soul,    are   all 


NAPOLEON  t    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     249 

French.  "  I  must  dazzle  and  astonish.  If  I 
were  to  give  the  liberty  of  the  press,  my  power 
could  not  last  three  days."  To  make  a  great 
noise  is  his  favorite  design.  «  A  great  reputation 
is  a  great  noise  :  the  more  there  is  made,  the 
farther  off  it  is  heard.  Laws,  institutions,  mon- 
uments, nations,  all  fall  •  but  the  noise  continues, 
and  resounds  in  after  ages."  His  doctrine  of  im- 
mortality is  simply  fame.  His  theory  of  influence 
is  not  nattering.  "  There  are  two  levers  for  moving 
men,  —  interest  and  fear.  Love  is  a  silly  infatua- 
tion, depend  upon  it.  Friendship  is  but  a  name. 
I  love  nobody.  I  do  not  even  love  my  brothers  : 
perhaps  Joseph,  a  little,  from  habit,  and  because 
he  is  my  elder ;  and  Duroc,  I  love  him  too  ;  but 
why  ?  —  because  his  character  pleases  me  :  he  is 
stern  and  resolute,  and,  I  believe,  the  fellow 
never  shed  a  tear.  For  my  part,  I  know  very 
well  that  I  have  no  true  friends.  As  long  as  I 
continue  to  be  what  I  am,  I  may  have  as  many 
pretended  friends  as  I  please.  Leave  sensibility 
to  women  :  but  men  should  be  firm  in  heart  and 
purpose,  or  they  should  have  nothing  to  do  with 
war  and  government."  He  was  thoroughly  un- 
scrupulous. He  would  steal,  slander,  assassinate, 
drown,  and  poison,  as  his  interest  dictated.  He 
had  no  generosity  ;  but  mere  vulgar  hatred  :  he 
was    intensely    selfish  :    he    was    perfidious  :    he 


250  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

cheated  at  cards:  he  was  a  prodigious  gossip; 
and  opened  letters  :  and  delighted  iu  his  infamous 
police  ;  and  rubbed  his  hands  with  joy  when  he 
had  intercepted  some  morsel  of  intelligence  con- 
cerning the  men  and  women  about  him,  boasting 
that  ';  he  knew  every  thing  ;  "  and  interfered 
with  the  cutting  the  dresses  of  the  women  ;  and 
listened  after  the  hurrahs  and  the  compliments 
of  the  street,  incognito.  His  manners  were 
coarse.  He  treated  women  with  low  familiarity. 
He  had  the  habit  of  pulling  their  ears,  and  pinch- 
ing their  cheeks,  when  he  was  in  good  humor, 
and  of  pulling  the  ears  and  whiskers  of  men,  and 
of  striking  and  horse-play  with  them,  to  his  last 
days.  It  does  not  appear  that  he  listened  at  key- 
holes, or,  at  least,  that  he  was  caught  at  it.  In 
short,  when  you  have  penetrated  through  all  the 
circles  of  power  and  splendor,  you  were  net  deal- 
ing with  a  gentleman,  at  last ;  but  with  an  impos- 
tor and  a  rogue :  and  he  fully  deserves  the  epithet 
of  Jupiter  Scapm,  or  a  sort  of  Scamp  Jupiter. 

In  describing  the  two  parties  into  which  mod- 
ern society  divides  itself, — the  democrat  and  the 
conservative,  —  I  said,  Bonaparte  represents  the 
Democrat,  or  the  party  of  men  of  business,  against 
the  stationary  or  conservative  party.  1  omitted 
then  to  say,  what  is  material  to  the  statement, 


NAPOLEON  J    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     251 

namely,  that  these  two  parties  differ  only  as  young 
and  eld.  The  democrat  is  a  young  conservative  ; 
the  conservative  is  an  old  democrat.  The  aristo- 
crat is  the  democrat  ripe,  and  gone  to  seed,  —  be- 
cause both  parties  stand  on  the  one  ground  cf  the 
supreme  value  of  property,  which  one  endeavors 
to  get,  and  the  other  to  keep.  Bonaparte  may  be 
said  to  represent  the  whole  history  of  this  party, 
its  youth  and  its  age  ;  yes,  and  with  poetic  justice, 
its  fate,  in  his  own.  The  counter-revolution,  the 
counter-party,  still  waits  for  its  organ  and  repre- 
sentative, in  a  lover  and  a  man  of  truly  public 
and  universal  aims. 

Here  was  an  experiment,  under  the  most  favor- 
able conditions,  cf  the  powers  of  intellect  withe ut 
conscience.  Never  was  such  a  leader  so  endowed, 
and  so  weaponed  ;  never  leader  found  such  aids 
and  followers.  And  what  was  the  result  of  this 
vast  talent  and  power,  of  these  immense  armies, 
burned  cities,  squandered  treasures,  immolated 
millions  of  men,  of  this  demoralized  Europe?  It 
came  to  no  result.  All  parsed  away,  like  the 
smoke  of  his  artillery,  and  left  no  trace.  He  left 
France  smaller,  poorer,  feebler,  than  he  found  it ; 
and  the  whole  contest  for  freedom  was  to  be  begun 
again.  The  attempt  was,  in  principle,  suicidal. 
Frstice  served  him  with  life,  and  limb,  and  estate, 
as  long  as  it  could  identify  its  interest  with  him  \ 


252  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

but  when  men  saw  that  after  victory  was  another 
war;  after  the  destruction  of  armies,  new  con- 
scriptions ;  and  they  who  had  toiled  so  desperately 
were  never  nearer  to  the  reward,  —  they  could  not 
spend  what  they  had  earned,  nor  repose  on  their 
down-beds,  nor  strut  in  their  chateaux,  —  they 
deserted  him.  Men  found  that  his  absorbing 
egotism  was  deadly  to  all  other  men.  It  resem- 
bled the  torpedo,  which  inflicts  a  succession  of 
shocks  on  any  one  who  takes  hold  of  it,  producing 
spasms  which  contract  the  muscles  of  the  hand,  so 
that  the  man  can  not  open  his  fingers  ;  and  the  ani- 
mal inflicts  new  and  more  violent  shocks,  until  he 
paralyzes  and  kills  his  victim.  So,  this  exorbi- 
tant egotist  narrowed,  impoverished,  and  absorbed 
the  power  and  existence  of  those  who  served 
him  ;  and  the  universal  cry  of  France,  and  of 
Europe,  in  1814,  was,  "enough  of  him;"  " as- 
sez  de  Bonaparte." 

It  was  not  Bonaparte's  fault.  He  did  all  that 
in  him  lay,  to  live  and  thrive  without  moral  prin- 
ciple. It  was  the  nature  of  things,  the  eternal 
law  of  man  and  of  the  world,  which  baulked  and 
ruined  him ;  and  the  result,  in  a  million  experi- 
ments, will  be  the  same.  Every  experiment,  by 
multitudes  or  by  individuals,  that  has  a  sensual 
and  selfish  aim,  will  fail.  The  pacific  Fourier 
will  be  as  inefficient  as  the  pernicious  Napoleon. 


NAPOLEON  J    OR,  THE  MAN  OF  THE  WORLD.     253 

As  long  as  our  civilization  is  essentially  one  of 
property,  of  fences,  of  exclusiveness,  it  will  be 
mocked  by  delusions.  Our  riches  will  leave  us 
sick  ;  there  will  be  bitterness  in  our  laughter  ;  and 
our  wine  will  burn  our  mouth.  Only  that  good 
profits,  which  we  can  taste  with  all  doors  open, 
and  which  serves  all  men. 
22 


GOETHE: 


THE    WRITER 


VII. 

GOETHE;   OR,   THE  WRITER 


I  find  a  provision,  in  the  constitution  of  the 
world,  for  the  writer  or  secretary,  who  is  to  report 
the  doings  of  the  miraculous  spirit  of  life  that 
every  where  throbs  and  works.  His  office  is  a 
reception  of  the  facts  into  the  mind,  and  then  a 
selection  of  the  eminent  and  characteristic  expe- 
riences. 

Nature  will  be  reported.  All  things  are  engaged 
in  writing  their  history.  The  planet,  the  pebble, 
goes  attended  by  its  shadow.  The  rolling  rock 
leaves  its  scratches  on  the  mountain  ;  the  river,  its 
channel  in  the  soil ;  the  animal,  its  bones  in  the 
stratum ;  the  fern  and  leaf,  their  modest  epitaph  in 
the  coal.  The  falling  drop  makes  its  sculpture  in 
the  sand  or  the  stone.  Not  a  foot  steps  into  the 
snow,  or  along  the  ground,  but  prints,  in  charac- 
ters more  or  less  lasting,  a  map  of  its  march. 
Every  act  of  the  man  inscribes  itself  in  the  mem* 
22* 


258  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

ories  of  his  fellows,  arid  in  his  own  manners  and 
face.  The  air  is  full  of  sounds  j  the  sky,  of  tokens  ; 
the  ground  is  all  memoranda  and  signatures ;  and 
every  object  covered  over  with  hints,  which  speak 
to  the  intelligent. 

In  nature,  this  self-registration  is  incessant,  and 
the  narrative  is  the  print  of  the  seal.  It  neither 
exceeds  nor  comes  short  of  the  fact.  But  nature 
strives  upward ;  and,  in  man,  the  report  is  some- 
thing more  than  print  of  the  seal.  It  is  a  new  and 
finer  form  of  the  original.  The  record  is  alive, 
as  that  which  it  recorded  is  alive.  In  man,  the 
memory  is  a  kind  of  looking-glass,  which,  having 
received  the  images  of  surrounding  objects,  is 
touched  with  life,  and  disposes  them  in  a  new 
order.  The  facts  which  transpired  do  not  lie  in 
it  inert ;  but  some  subside,  and  others  shine  ;  so 
that  soon  we  have  a  new  picture,  composed  of  the 
eminent  experiences.  The  man  cooperates.  He 
loves  to  communicate  ;  and  that  which  is  for  him 
to  say  lies  as  a  load  on  his  heart  until  it  is  deliv- 
ered. But,  besides  the  universal  joy  of  conversa- 
tion, some  men  are  born  with  exalted  powers  for 
this  second  creation.  Men  are  born  to  write. 
The  gardener  saves  every  slip,  and  seed,  and 
peach-stone  :  his  vocation  is  to  be  a  planter  of 
plants.  Not  less  does  the  writer  attend  his  affair. 
Whatever  he  beholds  or  experiences,  comes  to  him 


259 


as  a  model,  and  sits  for  its  picture.  He  counts 
it  all  nonsense  that  they  say,  that  some  things 
are  undescribable.  He  believes  that  all  that  can 
be  thought  can  be  written,  first  or  last ;  and  he 
would  report  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  attempt  it. 
Nothing  so  broad,  so  subtle,  or  so  dear,  but  comes 
therefore  commended  to  his  pen,  —  and  he  will 
write.  In  his  eyes,  a  man  is  the  faculty  of  re- 
porting, and  the  universe  is  the  possibility  of  being 
reported.  In  conversation,  in  calamity,  he  finds 
new  materials  ;  as  our  German  poet  said,  "  some 
god  gave  me  the  power  to  paint  what  I  surfer." 
He  draws  his  rents  from  rage  and  pain.  By  acting 
rashly,  he  buys  the  power  of  talking  wisely. 
Vexations,  and  a  tempest  of  passion,  only  fill  his 
sail  ;  as  the  good  Luther  writes,  "  When  I  am 
angry,  I  can  pray  well,  and  preach  well :  "  and, 
if  we  knew  the  genesis  of  fine  strokes  of  elo- 
quence, they  might  recall  the  complaisance  of 
Sultan  Amurath,  who  struck  off  some  Persian 
heads,  that  his  physician,  Vesalius,  might  see  the 
spasms  in  the  muscles  of  the  neck.  His  failures 
are  the  preparation  of  his  victories.  A  new 
thought,  or  a  crisis  of  passion,  apprises  him  that 
all  that  he  has  yet  learned  and  written  is  exoteric, 
—  is  not  the  fact,  but  some  rumor  of  the  fact. 
What  then  ?  Does  he  throw  away  the  pen  ?  No  ; 
he   begins  again  to    describe   in   the   new   light 


260  REPRESENTATIVE  MEN. 

which  has  shined  on  him,  —  if,  by  some  means, 
he  may  yet  save  some  true  word.  Nature  con- 
spires. Whatever  can  be  thought  can  be  spoken, 
and  still  rises  for  utterance,  though  to  rude  and 
stammering  organs.  If  they  cannot  compass  it, 
it  waits  and  works,  until,  at  last,  it  moulds  them 
to  its  perfect  will,  and  is  articulated. 

This  striving  after  imitative  expression,  which 
one  meets  every  where,  is  significant  of  the  aim 
of  nature,  but  is  mere  stenography.  There  are 
higher  degrees,  and  nature  has  more  splendid 
endowments  for  those  whom  she  elects  to  a  supe- 
rior office  ;  for  the  class  of  scholars  or  writers, 
who  see  connection  where  the  multitude  see 
fragments,  and  who  are  impelled  to  exhibit 
the  facts  in  order,  and  so  to  supply  the  axis  on 
which  the  frame  of  things  turns.  Nature  has 
dearly  at  heart  the  formation  of  the  speculative 
man,  or  scholar.  It  is  an  end  never  lost  sight  of, 
and  is  prepared  in  the  original  casting  of  things. 
He  is  no  permissive  or  accidental  appearance,  but 
an  organic  agent,  one  of  the  estates  of  the 
realm,  provided  and  prepared,  from  of  old  and 
from  everlasting,  in  the  knitting  and  contexture 
of  things.  Presentiments,  impulses,  cheer  him. 
There  is  a  certain  heat  in  the  breast,  which  at- 
tends the  perception  of  a  primary  truth,  which  is 
the   shining  of  the  spiritual   sun   down  into  the 


GOETHE  J     OR,    THE    WRITER.  261 

shaft  of  the  mine.  Every  thought  which  dawns 
on  the  mind,  in  the  moment  of  its  emergence 
announces  its  own  rank, — whether  it  is  some 
whimsy,  or  whether  it  is  a  power. 

If  he  have  his  incitements,  there  is,  on  the 
other  side,  invitation  and  need  enough  of  his 
gift.  Society  has,  at  all  times,  the  same  want, 
namely,  of  one  sane  man  with  adequate  powers 
of  expression  to  hold  up  each  object  of  mono- 
mania in  its  right  relations.  The  ambitious  and 
mercenary  bring  their  last  new  mumbo-jumbo, 
whether  tariff,  Texas,  railroad,  Romanism,  mes- 
merism, or  California  ;  and,  by  detaching  the 
object  from  its  relations,  easily  succeed  in  making 
it  seen  in  a  glare  ;  and  a  multitude  go  mad  about 
it,  and  they  are  not  to  be  reproved  or  cured  by 
the  opposite  multitude,  who  are  kept  from  this 
particular  insanity  by  an  equal  frenzy  on  another 
crotchet.  But  let  one  man  have  the  comprehen- 
sive eye  that  can  replace  this  isolated  prodigy  in 
its  right  neighborhood  and  bearings,  —  the  illusion 
vanishes,  and  the  returning  reason  of  the  com- 
munity thanks  the  reason  of  the  monitor. 

The  scholar  is  the  man  of  the  ages,  but  he 
must  also  wish  with  other  men  to  stand  well 
with  his  contemporaries.  But  there  is  a  certain 
ridicule,  among  superficial  people,  thrown  on  the 
scholars  or  clerisy,  which  is  of  no  import,  unless 


262  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  scholar  heed  it.  In  this  country,  the  em- 
phasis of  conversation,  and  of  public  opinion, 
commends  the  practical  man ;  and  the  solid  por- 
tion of  the  community  is  named  with  significant 
respect  in  every  circle.  Our  people  are  of  Bona- 
parte's opinion  concerning  ideologists.  Ideas  are 
subversive  of  social  order  and  comfort,  and  at 
last  make  a  fool  of  the  possessor.  It  is  believed, 
the  ordering  a  cargo  of  goods  from  New  York  to 
Smyrna ;  or,  the  running  up  and  down  to  procure 
a  company  of  subscribers  to  set  a-going  five  or 
ten  thousand  spindles  ;  or,  the  negotiations  of  a 
caucus,  and  the  practising  on  the  prejudices  and 
facility  of  country-people,  to  secure  their  votes  in 
November,  —  is  practical  and  commendable. 

If  I  were  to  compare  action  of  a  much  higher 
strain  with  a  life  of  contemplation,  I  should  not 
venture  to  pronounce  with  much  confidence  in 
favor  of  the  former.  Mankind  have  such  a  deep 
stake  in  inward  illumination,  that  there  is  much  to 
be  said  by  the  hermit  or  monk  in  defence  of  his 
life  of  thought  and  prayer.  A  certain  partiality, 
a  headiness,  and  loss  of  balance,  is  the  tax  which 
all  action  mast  pay.  Act,  if  you  like,  —  but  you 
do  it  at  your  peril.  Men's  actions  are  too  strong 
for  them.  Show  me  a  man  who  has  acted,  and 
who  has  not  been  the  victim  and  slave  of  his 
action.     What    they   have    done    commits    and 


GOETHE  J     OR,    THE    WRITER.  263 

enforces  them  to  do  the  same  again.  The  first 
act,  which  was  to  be  an  experiment,  becomes  a 
sacrament.  The  fiery  reformer  embodies  his 
aspiration  in  some  rite  or  covenant,  and  he  and 
his  friends  cleave  to  the  form,  and  lose  the 
aspiration.  The  Quaker  has  established  Quaker- 
ism, the  Shaker  has  established  his  monastery 
and  his  dance  ;  and,  although  each  prates  of  spirit, 
there  is  no  spirit,  but  repetition,  which  is  anti- 
spiritual.  But  where  are  his  new  things  of 
to-day  ?  In  actions  of  enthusiasm,  this  drawback 
appears  :  but  in  those  lower  activities,  which 
have  no  higher  aim  than  to  make  us  more  com- 
fortable and  more  cowardly,  in  actions  of  cun- 
ning, actions  that  steal  and  lie,  actions  that 
divorce  the  speculative  from  the  practical  faculty, 
and  put  a  ban  on  reason  and  sentiment,  there  is 
nothing  else  but  drawback  and  negation.  The 
Hindoos  write  in  their  sacred  books,  "Children 
only,  and  not  the  learned,  speak  of  the  specula- 
tive and  the  practical  faculties  as  two.  They 
are  but  one,  for  both  obtain  the  selfsame  end,  and 
the  place  which  is  gained  by  the  followers  of  the 
one,  is  gained  by  the  followers  of  the  other. 
That  man  seeth,  who  seeth  that  the  speculative 
and  the  practical  doctrines  are  one.'7  For  great 
action  must  draw  on  the  spiritual  nature.  The 
measure  of  action  is  the  sentiment  from  which  it 


B64  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

proceeds.  The  greatest  action  may  easily  be 
one  of  the  most  private  circumstance. 

This  disparagement  will  not  come  from  the 
leaders,  but  from  inferior  persons.  The  robust 
gentlemen  who  stand  at  the  head  of  the  practical 
class,  share  the  ideas  of  the  time,  and  have  too 
much  sympathy  with  the  speculative  class.  It  is 
not  from  men  excellent  in  any  kind,  that  dis- 
paragement of  any  other  is  to  be  looked  for. 
With  such,  Talleyrand's  question  is  ever  the  main 
one  ;  not,  is  he  rich  ?  is  he  committed  ?  is  he 
well-meaning  ?  has  he  this  or  that  faculty  ?  is  he 
of  the  movement  ?  is  he  of  the  establishment  ?  — 
but,  Is  he  any  body?  does  he  stand  for  some- 
thing ?  He  must  be  good  of  his  kind.  That  is 
all  that  Talleyrand,  all  that  State-street,  all  that 
the  common  sense  of  mankind  asks.  Be  real 
and  admirable,  not  as  we  know,  but  as  you  know. 
Able  men  do  not  care  in  what  kind  a  man  is  able, 
so  only  that  he  is  able.  A  master  likes  a  master, 
and  does  not  stipulate  whether  it  be  orator,  artist, 
craftsman,  or  king. 

Society  has  really  no  graver  interest  than  the 
well-being  of  the  literary  class.  And  it  is  not  to 
be  denied  that  men  are  cordial  in  their  recognition 
and  welcome  of  intellectual  accomplishments. 
Still  the  writer  does  not  stand  with  us  on  any 
commanding  ground.     I  think  this  to  be  his  own 


GOETHE  ;     OR,    THE    WRITER.  265 

fault.  A  pound  passes  for  a  pound.  There  have 
been  times  when  he  was  a  sacred  person  :  he 
wrote  Bibles  ;  the  first  hymns ;  the  codes  ;  the 
epics  j  tragic  songs  ;  Sibylline  verses ;  Chaldean 
oracles  ;  Laconian  sentences,  inscribed  on  temple 
walls.  Every  word  was  true,  and  woke  the  na- 
tions to  new  life.  He  wrote  without  levity,  and 
without  choice.  Every  word  was  carved  before 
his  eyes,  into  the  earth  and  the  sky ;  and  the  sun 
and  stars  were  only  letters  of  the  same  purport, 
and  of  no  more  necessity.  But  how  can  he  be 
honored,  when  he  does  not  honor  himself;  when 
he  loses  himself  in  the  crowd;  when  he  is  no 
longer  the  lawgiver,  but  the  sycophant,  ducking 
to  the  giddy  opinion  of  a  reckless  public ;  when 
he  must  sustain  with  shameless  advocacy  some 
bad  government,  or  must  bark,  all  the  year  round, 
in  opposition ;  or  write  conventional  criticism,  or 
profligate  novels  ;  or,  at  any  rate,  write  without 
thought,  and  without  recurrence,  by  day  and  by 
night,  to  the  sources  of  inspiration  ? 

Some  reply  to  these  questions  may  be  furnished 
by  looking  over  the  list  of  men  of  literary  genius 
in  our  age.  Among  these,  no  more  instructive 
name  occurs  than  that  of  Goethe,  to  represent  the 
powers  and  duties  of  the  scholar  or  writer. 

I  described  Bonaparte  as  a  representative  of  the 
popular  external  life  and  aims  of  the  nineteenth 
23 


266  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

century.  Its  other  half,  its  poet,  is  Goethe,  a  man 
quite  domesticated  in  the  century,  breathing  its 
air,  enjoying  its  fruits,  impossible  at  any  earlier 
time,  and  taking  away,  by  his  colossal  parts,  the 
reproach  of  weakness,  which,  but  for  him,  would 
lie  on  the  intellectual  works  of  the  period.  He 
appears  at  a  time  when  a  general  culture  has 
spread  itself,  and  has  smoothed  down  all  sharp 
individual  traits ;  when,  in  the  absence  of  heroic 
characters,  a  social  comfort  and  cooperation  have 
come  in.  There  is  no  poet,  but  scores  of  poetic 
writers ;  no  Columbus,  but  hundreds  of  post- 
captains,  with  transit-telescope,  barometer,  and 
concentrated  soup  and  pemmican ;  no  Demosthe- 
nes, no  Chatham,  but  any  number  of  clever  par- 
liamentary and  forensic  debaters ;  no  prophet  or 
saint,  but  colleges  of  divinity ;  no  learned  man, 
but  learned  societies,  a  cheap  press,  reading-rooms, 
and  book-clubs,  without  number.  There  was 
never  such  a  miscellany  of  facts.  The  world 
extends  itself  like  American  trade.  We  conceive 
Greek  or  Roman  life,  —  life  in  the  middle  ages,  — 
to  be  a  simple  and  comprehensible  affair ;  but 
modern  life  to  respect  a  multitude  of  things, 
which  is  distracting. 

Goethe  was  the  philosopher  of  this  multiplicity  ; 
hundred-handed,  Argus-eyed,  able  and  happy  to 
cope  with   this   rolling  miscellany  of  facts  and 


GOETHE  J     OR,    THE    WRITER.  267 

sciences,  and,  by  his  own  versatility,  to  dispose 
of  them  with  ease  j  a  manly  mind,  unembarrassed 
by  the  variety  of  coats  of  convention  with 
which  life  had  got  encrusted,  easily  able  by  his 
subtlety  to  pierce  these,  and  to  draw  his  strength 
from  nature,  with  which  he  lived  in  full  com- 
munion. What  is  strange,  too,  he  lived  in  a 
small  town,  in  a  petty  state,  in  a  defeated  state, 
and  in  a  time  when  Germany  played  no  such 
leading  part  in  the  world's  affairs  as  to  swell  the 
bosom  of  her  sons  with  any  metropolitan  pride, 
such  as  might  have  cheered  a  French,  or  English, 
or  once,  a  Roman  or  Attic  genius.  Yet  there  is 
no  trace  of  provincial  limitation  in  his  muse. 
He  is  not  a  debtor  to  his  position,  but  was  born 
with  a  free  and  controlling  genius. 

The  Helena,  or  the  second  part  of  Faust,  is  a 
philosophy  of  literature  set  in  poetry ;  the  work 
of  one  who  found  himself  the  master  of  histories, 
mythologies,  philosophies,  sciences,  and  national 
literatures,  in  the  encyclopaedical  manner  in  which 
modern  erudition,  with  its  international  inter- 
course of  the  whole  earth's  population,  researches 
into  Indian,  Etruscan,  and  all  Cyclopaean  arts, 
geology,  chemistry,  astronomy  ;  and  every  one 
of  these  kingdoms  assuming  a  certain  aerial  and 
poetic  character,  by  reason  of  the  multitude. 
One  looks  at  a  king  with  reverence  ;  but  if  one 


268  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

should  chance  to  be  at  a  congress  of  kings,  the 
eye  would  take  liberties  with  the  peculiarities 
of  each.  These  are  not  wild  miraculous  songs, 
but  elaborate  forms,  to  which  the  poet  has  con- 
fided the  results  of  eighty  years  of  observation. 
This  reflective  and  critical  wisdom  makes  the 
poem  more  truly  the  flower  of  this  time.  It 
dates  itself.  Still  he  is  a  poet,  —  poet  of  a  prouder 
laurel  than  any  contemporary,  and,  under  this 
plague  of  microscopes,  (for  he  seems  to  see  out 
of  every  pore  of  his  skin,)  strikes  the  harp  with 
a  hero's  strength  and  grace. 

The  wonder  of  the  book  is  its  superior  intelli- 
gence. In  the  menstruum  of  this  man's  wit,  the 
past  and  the  present  ages,  and  their  religions, 
politics,  and  modes  of  thinking,  are  dissolved  into 
archetypes  and  ideas.  What  new  mythologies 
sail  through  his  head  !  The  Greeks  said,  that 
Alexander  went  as  far  as  Chaos :  Goethe  went, 
only  the  other  day,  as  far ;  and  one  step  farther 
he  hazarded,  and  brought  himself  safe  back. 

There  is  a  heart-cheering  freedom  in  his  specu- 
lation. The  immense  horizon  which  journeys 
with  us  lends  its  majesty  to  trifles,  and  to  matters 
of  convenience  and  necessity,  as  to  solemn  and 
festal  performances.  He  was  the  soul  of  his 
century.  If  that  was  learned,  and  had  become, 
by  population,  compact  organization,  and  drill  of 


GOETHE  J     OR,    THE    WRITER.  269 

parts,  one  great  Exploring  Expedition,  accumu- 
lating a  glut  of  facts  and  fruits  too  fast  for  any 
hitherto-existing  savans  to  classify,  this  man's 
mind  had  ample  chambers  for  the  distribution  of 
all.  He  had  a  power  to  unite  the  detached  atoms 
again  by  their  own  law.  He  has  clothed  our 
modern  existence  with  poetry.  Amid  littleness 
and  detail,  he  detected  the  Genius  of  life,  the  old 
cunning  Proteus,  nestling  close  beside  us,  and 
showed  that  the  dulness  and  prose  we  ascribe  to 
the  age  was  only  another  of  his  masks :  — 

"His  very  flight  is  presence  in  disguise : " 

that  he  had  put  off  a  gay  uniform  for  a  fatigue 
dress,  and  was  not  a  wiiit  less  vivacious  or  rich 
in  Liverpool  or  the  Hague,  than  once  in  Rome 
or  Antioch.  He  sought  him  in  public  squares 
and  main  streets,  in  boulevards  and  hotels ;  and, 
in  the  solidest  kingdom  of  routine  and  the  senses, 
he  showed  the  lurking  dsemonic  power ;  that,  in 
actions  of  routine,  a  thread  of  mythology  and 
fable  spins  itself:  and  this,  by  tracing  the  pedi- 
gree of  every  usage  and  practice,  every  institu- 
tion, utensil,  and  means,  home  to  its  origin  in  the 
structure  of  man.  He  had  an  extreme  impatience 
of  conjecture  and  of  rhetoric.  "  I  have  guesses 
enough  of  my  own ;  if  a  man  write  a  book,  let 
him  set  down  only  what  he  knows."  He  writes 
23* 


270  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

in  the  plainest  and  lowest  tone,  omitting  a  great 
deal  more  than  he  writes,  and  putting  ever  a 
thing  for  a  word.  He  has  explained  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  antique  and  the  modern  spirit 
and  art.  He  has  denned  art,  its  scope  and  laws. 
He  has  said  the  best  things  about  nature  that 
ever  were  said.  He  treats  nature  as  the  old  phi- 
losophers, as  the  seven  wise  masters  did,  —  and, 
with  whatever  loss  of  French  tabulation  and 
dissection,  poetry  and  humanity  remain  to  us ; 
and  they  have  some  doctoral  skill.  Eyes  are 
better,  on  the  whole,  than  telescopes  or  micro- 
scopes. He  has  contributed  a  key  to  many  parts 
of  nature,  through  the  rare  turn  for  unity  and 
simplicity  in  his  mind.  Thus  Goethe  suggested 
the  leading  idea  of  modern  botany,  that  a  leaf,  or 
the  eye  of  a  leaf,  is  the  unit  of  botany,  and  that 
every  part  of  the  plant  is  only  a  transformed  leaf 
to  meet  a  new  condition ;  and,  by  varying  the 
conditions,  a  leaf  may  be  converted  into  any 
other  organ,  and  any  other  organ  into  a  leaf. 
In  like  manner,  in  osteology,  he  assumed  that 
one  vertebra  of  the  spine  might  be  considered 
the  unit  of  the  skeleton :  the  head  was  only  the 
uppermost  vertebra  transformed.  "  The  plant 
goes  from  knot  to  knot,  closing,  at  last,  with  the 
flower  and  the  seed.  So  the  tape- worm,  the 
caterpillar,  goes   from   knot  to  knot,  and  closes 


GOETHE  J    OR,    THE    WRITER.  271 

with  the  head.  Man  and  the  higher  animals  are 
built  up  through  the  vertebrae,  the  powers  being 
concentrated  in  the  head."  In  optics,  again,  he 
rejected  the  artificial  theory  of  seven  colors,  and 
considered  that  every  color  was  the  mixture  of 
light  and  darkness  in  new  proportions.  It  is 
really  of  very  little  consequence  what  topic  he 
writes  upon.  He  sees  at  every  pore,  and  has 
a  certain  gravitation  towards  truth.  He  will 
realize  what  you  say.  He  hates  to  be  trifled 
with,  and  to  be  made  to  say  over  again  some  old 
wife's  fable,  that  has  had  possession  of  men's 
faith  these  thousand  years.  He  may  as  well  see 
if  it  is  true  as  another.  He  sifts  it.  I  am  here, 
he  would  say,  to  be  the  measure  and  judge  of 
these  things.  Why  should  I  take  them  on  trust  ? 
And,  therefore,  what  he  says  of  religion,  of 
passion,  of  marriage,  of  manners,  of  property,  of 
paper  money,  of  periods  of  belief,  of  omens, 
'of  luck,  or  whatever  else,  refuses  to  be  forgotten. 
Take  the  most  remarkable  example  that  could 
occur  of  this  tendency  to  verify  every  term  in 
popular  use.  The  Devil  had  played  an  important 
part  in  mythology  in  all  times.  Goethe  would 
have  no  word  that  does  not  cover  a  thing.  The 
same  measure  will  still  serve  :  "I  have  never 
heard  of  any  crime  which  I  might  not  have 
committed."     So  he  flies  at   the   throat   of  this 


272  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

imp.  He  shall  be  real ;  he  shall  be  modern  ;  he 
shall  be  European  ;  he  shall  dress  like  a  gentle- 
man, and  accept  the  manners,  and  walk  in  the 
streets,  and  be  well  initiated  in  the  life  of  Vienna, 
and  of  Heidelberg,  in  1820,  —  or  he  shall  not 
exist.  Accordingly,  he  stripped  him  of  mytho- 
logic  gear,  of  horns,  cloven  foot,  harpoon  tail, 
brimstone,  and  blue-fire,  and,  instead  of  looking 
in  books  and  pictures,  looked  for  him  in  his  own 
mind,  in  every  shade  of  coldness,  selfishness,  and 
unbelief  that,  in  crowds,  or  in  solitude,  darkens 
over  the  human  thought,  —  and  found  that  the 
portrait  gained  reality  and  terror  by  every  thing 
he  added,  and  by  every  thing  he  took  away.  He 
found  that  the  essence  of  this  hobgoblin,  which 
had  hovered  in  shadow  about  the  habitations  of 
men,  ever  since  there  were  men,  was  pure  intel- 
lect, applied,  —  as  always  there  is  a  tendency,  — 
to  the  service  of  the  senses  :  and  he  flung  into 
literature,  in  his  Mephistopheles,  the  first  organic 
figure  that  has  been  added  for  some  ages,  and 
which  will  remain  as  long  as  the  Prometheus. 

I  have  no  design  to  enter  into  any  analysis  of 
his  numerous  works.  They  consist  of  transla- 
tions, criticism,  dramas,  lyric  and  every  other 
description  of  poems,  literary  journals,  and  por- 
traits of  distinguished  men.  Yet  I  cannot  omit 
to  specify  the  Wilhelm  Meister. 


273 

Wilhelm  Meister  is  a  novel  in  every  sense,  the 
first  of  its  kind,  called  by  its  admirers  the  only 
delineation  of  modern  society,  —  as  if  other  novels, 
those  of  Scott,  for  example,  dealt  with  costume 
and  condition,  this  with  the  spirit  of  life.  It  is 
a  book  over  which  some  veil  is  still  drawn.  It 
is  read  by  very  intelligent  persons  with  wonder 
and  delight.  It  is  preferred  by  some  such  to 
Hamlet,  as  a  work  of  genius.  I  suppose,  no  book 
of  this  century  can  compare  with  it  in  its  delicious 
sweetness,  so  new,  so  provoking  to  the  mind, 
gratifying  it  with  so  many  and  so  solid  thoughts, 
just  insights  into  life,  and  manners,  and  characters  ; 
so  many  good  hints  for  the  conduct  of  life,  so 
many  unexpected  glimpses  into  a  higher  sphere, 
and  never  a  trace  of  rhetoric  or  dulness.  A  very 
provoking  book  to  the  curiosity  of  young  men 
of  genius,  but  a  very  unsatisfactory  one.  Lovers 
of  light  reading,  those  who  look  in  it  for  the 
entertainment  they  find  in  a  romance,  are  disap- 
pointed. On  the  other  hand,  those  who  begin  it 
with  the  higher  hope  to  read  in  it  a  worthy 
history  of  genius,  and  the  just  award  of  the 
laurel  to  its  toils  and  denials,  have  also  reason  to 
complain.  We  had  an  English  romance  here,  not 
long  ago.  professing  to  embody  the  hope  of  a 
new  age,  and  to  unfold  the  political  hope  of  the 
party  called  l  Young  England,'  in  which  the  only 


274  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

reward  of  virtue  is  a  seat  in  parliament,  and  a  peer- 
age. Goethe's  romance  has  a  conclusion  as  lame 
and  immoral.  George  Sand,  in  Consuelo  and  its 
continuation,  has  sketched  a  truer  and  more 
dignified  picture.  In  the  progress  of  the  story, 
the  characters  of  the  hero  and  heroine  expand  at 
a  rate  that  shivers  the  porcelain  chess-table  of 
aristocratic  convention :  they  quit  the  society  and 
habits  of  their  rank  j  they  lose  their  wealth  ;  they 
become  the  servants  of  great  ideas,  and  of  the 
most  generous  social  ends ;  until,  at  last,  the  hero, 
who  is  the  centre  and  fountain  of  an  association 
for  the  rendering  of  the  noblest  benefits  to  the 
human  race,  no  longer  answers  to  his  own  titled 
name  :  it  sounds  foreign  and  remote  in  his  ear. 
"  I  am  only  man,"  he  says  ;  "  I  breathe  and  work 
for  man,"  and  this  in  poverty  and  extreme  sacrifices. 
Goethe's  hero,  on  the  contrary,  has  so  many 
weaknesses  and  impurities,  and  keeps  such  bad 
company,  that  the  sober  English  public,  when 
the  book  was  translated,  were  disgusted.  And 
yet  it  is  so  crammed  with  wisdom,  with  know- 
ledge of  the  world,  and  with  knowledge  of  laws  ; 
the  persons  so  truly  and  subtly  drawn,  and  with 
such  few  strokes,  and  not  a  word  too  much,  the 
book  remains  ever  so  new  and  unexhausted,  that 
we  must  even  let  it  go  its  way,  and  be  willing  to 
get  what  good  from  it  we  can,  assured  that  it  has 


275 

only  begun  its  office,  and  has  millions  of  readers 
yet  to  serve. 

The  argument  is  the  passage  of  a  democrat  to 
the  aristocracy,  using  both  words  in  their  best 
sense.  And  this  passage  is  not  made  in  any 
mean  or  creeping  way,  but  through  the  hall  door. 
Nature  and  character  assist,  and  the  rank  is  made 
real  by  sense  and  probity  in  the  nobles.  No  gen- 
erous youth  can  escape  this  charm  of  reality  in 
the  book,  so  that  it  is  highly  stimulating  to  intel- 
lect and  courage. 

The  ardent  and  holy  Novalis  characterized  the 
book  as  "  thoroughly  modern  and  prosaic  ;  the 
romantic  is  completely  levelled  in  it ;  so  is  the 
poetry  of  nature ;  the  wonderful.  The  book 
treats  only  of  the  ordinary  affairs  of  men :  it  is  a 
poeticized  civic  and  domestic  story.  The  wonder- 
ful in  it  is  expressly  treated  as  fiction  and  enthu- 
siastic dreaming:"  —  and  yet,  what  is  also 
characteristic,  Novalis  soon  returned  to  this  book, 
and  it  remained  his  favorite  reading  to  the  end 
of  his  life. 

What  distinguishes  Goethe  for  French  and 
English  readers,  is  a  property  which  he  shares 
with  his  nation,  —  a  habitual  reference  to  interior 
truth.  In  England  and  in  America,  there  is  a 
respect  for  talent ;  and,  if  it  is  exerted  in  support 
of  any  ascertained  or  intelligible  interest  or  party, 


276  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

or  in  regular  opposition  to  any,  the  public  is  satis- 
fied. In  France,  there  is  even  a  greater  delight 
in  intellectual  brilliancy,  for  its  own  sake.  And, 
in  all  these  countries,  men  of  talent  write  from 
talent.  It  is  enough  if  the  understanding  is  oc- 
cupied, the  taste  propitiated,  —  so  many  columns, 
so  many  hours,  filled  in  a  lively  and  creditable 
way.  The  German  intellect  wants  the  French 
sprightliness,  the  fine  practical  understanding  of 
the  English,  and  the  American  adventure ;  but  it 
has  a  certain  probity,  which  never  rests  in  a  su- 
perficial performance,  but  asks  steadily,  To  what 
end  ?  A  German  public  asks  for  a  controlling 
sincerity.  Here  is  activity  of  thought  j  but  what 
is  it  for  ?  What  does  the  man  mean  ?  Whence, 
whence  all  these  thoughts  ? 

Talent  alone  can  not  make  a  writer.  There 
must  be  a  man  behind  the  book ;  a  personality 
which,  by  birth  and  quality,  is  pledged  to  the 
doctrines  there  set  forth,  and  which  exists  to  see 
and  state  things  so,  and  not  otherwise ;  holding 
things  because  they  are  things.  If  he  can  not 
rightly  express  himself  to-day,  the  same  things 
subsist,  and  will  open  themselves  to-morrow. 
There  lies  the  burden  on  his  mind,  —  the  burden 
of  truth  to  be  declared,  —  more  or  less  understood  ; 
and  it  constitutes  his  business  and  calling  in  the 
world,  to  see  those  facts  through,  and  to  make 


GOETHE  j    OR,    THE    WRITER.  277 

them  known.  What  signifies  that  he  trips  and 
stammers  ;  that  his  voice  is  harsh  or  hissing  ;  that 
his  method  or  his  tropes  are  inadequate  ?  That 
message  will  find  method  and  imagery,  articulation 
and  melody.  Though  he  were  dumby  it  would 
speak.  If  not,  —  if  there  be  no  such  God's  word  in 
the  man,  —  what  care  we  how  adroit,  how  fluent, 
how  brilliant  he  is  ? 

It  makes  a  great  difference  to  the  force  of  any 
sentence,  whether  there  be  a  man  behind  it,  or  no. 
In  the  learned  journal,  in  the  influential  newspa- 
per, I  discern  no  form ;  only  some  irresponsible 
shadow ;  oftener  some  monied  corporation,  or  some 
dangler,  who  hopes,  in  the  mask  and  robes  of  his 
paragraph,  to  pass  for  somebody.  But,  through 
every  clause  and  part  of  speech  of  a  right  book, 
I  meet  the  eyes  of  the  most  determined  of  men : 
his  force  and  terror  inundate  every  word  :  the 
commas  and  dashes  are  alive  ;  so  that  the  writing 
is  athletic  and  nimble,  —  can  go  far  and  live  long. 

In  England  and  America,  one  may  be  an  adept 
in  the  writing  of  a  Greek  or  Latin  poet,  without 
any  poetic  taste  or  fire.  That  a  man  has  spent 
years  on  Plato  and  Proclus,  does  not  afford  a  pre- 
sumption that  he  holds  heroic  opinions,  or  under- 
values the  fashions  of  his  town.  But  the  German 
nation  have  the  most  ridiculous  good  faith  on  these 
subjects  :  the  student,  out  of  the  lecture-room,  still 
24 


278  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

broods  on  the  lessons ;  and  the  professor  can  not 
divest  himself  of  the  fancy,  that  the  truths  of 
philosophy  have  some  application  to  Berlin  and 
Munich.  This  earnestness  enables  them  to  out- 
see  men  of  much  more  talent.  Hence,  almost  all 
the  valuable  distinctions  which  are  current  in 
higher  conversation,  have  been  derived  to  us  from 
Germany.  But,  whilst  men  distinguished  for  wit 
and  learning,  in  England  and  France,  adopt  their 
study  and  their  side  with  a  certain  levity,  and 
are  not  understood  to  be  very  deeply  engaged,  from 
grounds  of  character,  to  the  topic  or  the  part  they 
espouse,  — Goethe,  the  head  and  body  of  the  Ger- 
man nation,  does  not  speak  from  talent,  but  the 
truth  shines  through :  he  is  very  wise,  though  his 
talent  often  veils  his  wisdom.  However  excellent 
his  sentence  is,  he  has  somewhat  better  in  view. 
It  awakens  my  curiosity.  He  has  the  formidable 
independence  which  converse  with  truth  gives  : 
hear  you,  or  forbear,  his  fact  abides  ,*  and  your 
interest  in  the  writer  is  not  confined  to  his  story, 
and  he  dismissed  from  memory,  when  he  has 
performed  his  task  creditably,  as  a  baker  when 
he  has  left  his  loaf ;  but  his  work  is  the  least  part 
of  him.  The  old  Eternal  Genius  who  built  the 
world  has  confided  himself  more  to  this  man  than 
to  any  other.  I  dare  not  say  that  Goethe  ascend- 
ed to  the  highest  grounds  from  which  genius  has 


THE    WRITER.  279 

spoken.  He  has  not  worshipped  the  highest 
unity;  he  is  incapable  of  a  self-surrender  to  the 
moral  sentiment.  There  are  nobler  strains  in  poe- 
try than  any  he  has  sounded.  There  are  writers 
poorer  in  talent,  whose  tone  is  purer,  and  more 
touches  the  heart.  Goethe  can  never  be  dear  to 
men.  His  is  not  even  the  devotion  to  pure  truth  : 
but  to  truth  for  the  sake  of  culture.  He  has  no 
aims  less  large  than  the  conquest  of  universal  na- 
ture, of  universal  truth,  to  be  his  portion  :  a  man 
not  to  be  bribed,  nor  deceived,  nor  overawed ;  of 
a  stoical  self-command  and  self-denial,  and  having 
one  test  for  all  men,  —  What  can  you  teach  me  ? 
All  possessions  are  valued  by  him  for  that  only ; 
rank,  privileges,  health,  time,  being  itself. 

He  is  the  type  of  culture,  the  amateur  of  all 
arts,  and  sciences,  and  events  ;  artistic,  but  not 
artist  ;  spiritual,  but  not  spiritualist.  There  is 
nothing  he  had  not  right  to  know :  there  is  no 
weapon  in  the  armory  of  universal  genius  he  did 
not  take  into  his  hand,  but  with  peremptory  heed 
that  he  should  not  be  for  a  moment  prejudiced 
by  his  instruments.  He  lays  a  ray  of  light  under 
every  fact,  and  between  himself  and  his  dearest 
property.  From  him  nothing  was  hid,  nothing 
withholden.  The  lurking  daemons  sat  to  him, 
and  the  saint  who  saw  the  daemons  ;  and  the 
metaphysical  elements  took  form.    "  Piety  itself  is 


280  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

no  aim,  but  only  a  means,  whereby,  through 
purest  inward  peace,  we  may  attain  to  highest 
culture."  And  his  penetration  of  every  secret  of 
the  fine  arts  will  make  Goethe  still  more  statu- 
esque. His  affections  help  him,  like  women  em- 
ployed by  Cicero  to  worm  out  the  secret  of 
conspirators.  Enmities  he  has  none.  Enemy 
of  him  you  may  be, — if  so  you  shall  teach  him 
aught  which  your  good-will  can  not,  —  were  it 
only  what  experience  will  accrue  from  your  ruin. 
Enemy  and  welcome,  but  enemy  on  high  terms. 
He  can  not  hate  any  body ;  his  time  is  worth  too 
much.  Temperamental  antagonisms  may  be 
suffered,  but  like  feuds  of  emperors,  who  fight 
dignifiedly  across  kingdoms. 

His  autobiography,  under  the  title  of  "  Poetry 
and  Truth  out  of  my  Life,"  is  the  expression  of 
the  idea,  —  now  familiar  to  the  world  through  the 
German  mind,  but  a  novelty  to  England,  Old  and 
New,  when  that  book  appeared,  —  that  a  man  exists 
for  culture ;  not  for  what  he  can  accomplish,  but 
for  what  can  be  accomplished  in  him.  The 
reaction  of  things  on  the  man  is  the  only  note- 
worthy result.  An  intellectual  man  can  see  him- 
self as  a  third  person ;  therefore  his  faults  and 
delusions  interest  him  equally  with  his  successes. 
Though  he  wishes  to  prosper  in  affairs,  he  wishes 
more   to  know  the   history  and  destiny  of  man  ; 


GOETHE  ;    OR,    THE    WRITER.  281 

whilst  the  clouds  of  egotists  drifting  about  him 
are  only  interested  in  a  low  success. 

This  idea  reigns  in  the  Dichtung  und  Wahr- 
heit,  and  directs  the  selection  of  the  incidents  ; 
and  nowise  the  external  importance  of  events, 
the  rank  of  the  personages,  or  the  bulk  of  incomes. 
Of  course,  the  book  affords  slender  materials  for 
what  would  be  reckoned  writh  us  a  "  Life  of 
Goethe;" — few  dates;  no  correspondence;  no 
details  of  offices  or  employments  ;  no  light  on 
his  marriage  ;  and,  a  period  of  ten  years,  that 
should  be  the  most  active  in  his  life,  after  his 
settlement  at  Weimar,  is  sunk  in  silence.  Mean- 
time, certain  love-affairs,  that  came  to  nothing,  as 
people  say,  have  the  strangest  importance  :  he 
crowds  us  with  details  :  —  certain  whimsical  opin- 
ions, cosmogonies,  and  religions  of  his  own  in- 
vention, and,  especially  his  relations  to  remarkable 
minds,  and  to  critical  epochs  of  thought :  —  these  he 
magnifies.  His  "  Daily  and  Yearly  Journal,"  his 
"  Italian  Travels,"  his  "  Campaign  in  France," 
and  the  historical  part  of  his  "  Theory  of  Colors," 
have  the  same  interest.  In  the  last,  he  rapidly 
notices  Kepler,  Roger  Bacon,  Galileo,  Newton, 
Voltaire,  &c.  ;  and  the  charm  of  this  portion  of 
the  book  consists  in  the  simplest  statement  of  the 
relation  betwixt  these  grandees  of  European 
scientific  history  and  himself;  the  mere  drawing 
24* 


282  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

of  the  lines  from  Goethe  to  Kepler,  from  Goethe 
to  Bacon,  from  Goethe  to  Newton.  The  draw- 
ing of  the  line  is  for  the  time  and  person,  a  solu- 
tion of  the  formidable  problem,  and  gives  pleasure 
when  Iphigenia  and  Faust  do  not,  without  any- 
cost  of  invention  comparable  to  that  of  Iphige- 
nia and  Faust. 

This  lawgiver  of  art  is  not  an  artist.  Was  it 
that  he  knew  too  much,  that  his  sight  was  micro- 
scopic, and  interfered  with  the  just  perspective, 
the  seeing  of  the  whole  ?  He  is  fragmentary ; 
a  writer  of  occasional  poems,  and  of  an  encyclo- 
paedia of  sentences.  When  he  sits  down  to 
write  a  drama  or  a  tale,  he  collects  and  sorts  his 
observations  from  a  hundred  sides,  and  combines 
them  into  the  body  as  fitly  as  he  can.  A  great 
deal  refuses  to  incorporate  :  this  he  adds  loosely, 
as  letters  of  the  parties,  leaves  from  their  journals, 
or  the  like.  A  great  deal  still  is  left  that  will  not 
find  any  place.  This  the  bookbinder  alone  can 
give  any  cohesion  to  :  and  hence,  notwithstand- 
ing the  looseness  of  many  of  his  works,  we 
have  volumes  of  detached  paragraphs,  aphorisms, 
xenien,  &c. 

I  suppose  the  worldly  tone  of  his  tales  grew 
out  of  the  calculations  of  self-culture.  It  was 
the  infirmity  of  an  admirable  scholar,  who  loved 
the  world  out  of  gratitude ;    who  knew  where 


GOETHE  J     OR,    THE    WRITER.  283 

libraries,  galleries,  architecture,  laboratories,  sa- 
vans,  and  leisure,  were  to  be  had,  and  who  did 
not  quite  trust  the  compensations  of  poverty  and 
nakedness.  Socrates  loved  Athens ;  Montaigne, 
Paris ;  and  Madame  de  Stael  said,  she  was  only 
vulnerable  on  that  side;  (namely,  of  Paris.)  It 
has  its  favorable  aspect.  All  the  geniuses  are 
usually  so  ill-assorted  and  sickly,  that  one  is  evei 
wishing  them  somewhere  else.  We  seldom  see 
any  body  who  is  not  uneasy  or  afraid  to  live. 
There  is  a  slight  blush  of  shame  on  the  cheek 
of  good  men  and  aspiring  men,  and  a  spice  of 
caricature.  But  this  man  was  entirely  at  home 
and  happy  in  his  century  and  the  world.  None 
was  so  fit  to  live,  or  more  heartily  enjoyed  the 
game.  In  this  aim  of  culture,  which  is  the  genius 
of  his  works,  is  their  power.  The  idea  of  abso- 
lute, eternal  truth,  without  reference  to  my  own 
enlargement  by  it,  is  higher.  The  surrender  to 
the  torrent  of  poetic  inspiration  is  higher ;  but, 
compared  with  any  motives  on  which  books  are 
written  in  England  and  America,  this  is  very 
truth,  and  has  the  power  to  inspire  which  belongs 
to  truth.  Thus  has  he  brought  back  to  a  book 
some  of  its  ancient  might  and  dignity. 

Goethe,  coming  into  an  over-civilized  time  and 
country,  when  original  talent  was  oppressed  under 
the  load  of  books  and  mechanical  auxiliaries,  and 


£84  REPRESENTATIVE    MEN. 

the  distracting  variety  of  claims,  taught  men  how- 
to  dispose  of  this  mountainous  miscellany,  and 
make  it  subservient.  I  join  Napoleon  with  him, 
as  being  both  representatives  of  the  impatience 
and  reaction  of  nature  against  the  morgue  of 
conventions,  —  two  stern  realists,  who,  with  their 
scholars,  have  severally  set  the  axe  at  the  root 
of  the  tree  of  cant  and  seeming,  for  this  time, 
and  for  all  time.  This  cheerful  laborer,  with  no 
external  popularity  or  provocation,  drawing  his 
motive  and  his  plan  from  his  own  breast,  tasked 
himself  with  stints  for  a  giant,  and,  without 
relaxation  or  rest,  except  by  alternating  his  pur- 
suits, worked  on  for  eighty  years  with  the  steadi- 
ness of  his  first  zeal. 

It  is  the  last  lesson  of  modern  science,  that  the 
highest  simplicity  of  structure  is  produced,  not 
by  few  elements,  but  by  the  highest  complexity. 
Man  is  the  most  composite  of  all  creatures :  the 
wheel-insect,  volvox  globator,  is  at  the  other  ex- 
treme. We  shall  learn  to  draw  rents  and  reve- 
nues from  the  immense  patrimony  of  the  old  and 
the  recent  ages.  Goethe  teaches  courage,  and  the 
equivalence  of  all  times ;  that  the  disadvantages 
of  any  epoch  exist  only  to  the  faint-hearted, 
Genius  hovers  with  his  sunshine  and  music  close 
by  the  darkest  and  deafest  eras,  No  mortgage, 
no  attainder,  wTill  hold  on  men  or  hours,     The 


GOETHE  ,      OR,    THE    WRITER.  285 

world  is  young :  the  former  great  men  call  to  us 
affectionately.  We  too  must  write  Bibles,  to  unite 
again  the  heavens  and  the  earthly  world.  The 
secret  of  genius  is  to  suffer  no  fiction  to  exist  for 
us  ;  to  realize  all  that  we  know ;  in  the  high 
refinement  of  modern  life,  in  arts,  in  sciences,  in 
books,  in  men,  to  exact  good  faith,  reality,  and 
a  purpose  ;  and  first,  last,  midst,  and  without  end, 
to  honor  every  truth  by  use. 


THE  END. 


Date  Due 


FE    1*54 


^i-V 


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